Unlit Flame
by CleverIllusionist
Summary: "Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. A title that would command respect, awe, perhaps even a little fear. It's just too bad that it was a title I would never bear." Chapter 8: A healer with red stained hands meets the Angel carrying the pain of the past.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_"I don't know what I had been thinking, asking her for her father's research. Riza Hawkeye was many things, but easily forgiving was not one of them. She never said a word as we stood in front of her father's grave, she simply stared me down after that stupid question had escaped my lips._

_I don't blame her, of course. Flame alchemy is a powerful thing, and Master Hawkeye was right when he said that in the wrong hands it would cause untold devastation. But even though I was set back, I did not give up my ambitions, both in alchemy and outside of it._

_Most State Alchemists receive their licencing first, and then begin climbing the military ranks. Without flame alchemy to distinguish me from the others, my application for state certification was unsuccessful, and was forced to go through this process in reverse. Instead of becoming an alchemist who was also a soldier, I was a soldier who had more than a passing fascination with alchemy. Doing little to distinguish myself as a soldier, I continued my research, attempting to recreate flame alchemy for myself._

_Partially it was to gain my state certification, but even greater in my mind was the sense of acceptance I sought. I thought, in some dark corner of my mind, that if I was able to crack the secret of flame alchemy on my own, I would somehow be worthy of it. I would have gotten my master's blessing._

_Perhaps that's why I never figured it out. To say my first and last attempt at flame alchemy was an unmitigated disaster would be making light of it. That I avoided court martial that day was a miracle. But it is false to say that my research was entirely fruitless._

_Most alchemists focus on the transmutation of solid matter like then Major Armstrong or General Grand. Fewer, such as Isaac "The Freezer" McDougal, are specialized in the transmutation of liquid matter, though they are known for greater variability. From this state of matter, both solid and gas states are relatively simple to reach for an alchemist who knows what he is doing. But while alchemists who create gas from liquid are not entirely uncommon, alchemists who work solely with matter in its gaseous state were almost unheard of._

_I was a Second Lieutenant in Ishval during the civil war when I finally was ready. I weaponized what I had researched, and my superiors knew enough not to wait for certification before utilizing my skills. The battlefield was to be my testing grounds, and I performed admirably. The small area I was assigned to was wiped out, and after the war I was promoted to a Major and given official State Alchemist status. A title came along with it, but I hardly gave it a second thought. You see, I had already earned myself a title, from the few survivors of my attack._

_For as long as I live, I will be known to them and myself as the Demon of Ishval."_

-From the memoirs of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, the Miasma Alchemist.

~…~

Roy Mustang pressed his head on the cool glass of the car's window, a futile attempt at battling the growing pain in his head. The rhythmic vibration as the vehicle drove over the uneven country road did little to make his headache less agonizing. The rain was a small blessing, the quiet hiss that accompanied it soothing the throbbing behind his eyes. All the same, he wished it would stop soon. Rain acted as a natural cleaner of the air, making his alchemy much less effective at a range. With limited range, this might take some time, and the Miasma Alchemist was looking forward to finishing this assignment as soon as possible.

"Miss… Ross, was it?"

His driver didn't so much as twitch a muscle. She simply stared resolutely ahead.

"Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, sir. That is correct."

Mustang sighed. So formal.

"You know, you can call me Roy," he said, smiling and looking into the rearview mirror in hopes of making eye contact. Which of course the female officer resolutely refused to meet.

"That would feel most improper, sir, given…"

She let the statement fade, possibly realizing who she was talking to.

'_Given who I am,'_ Roy thought to himself with a touch of bitterness. He had amass quite reputation for himself amongst the women of East City, and not for his skills in alchemy. At least, not officially. There were always rumors that he would use his abilities to manipulate the air, put something there that made others more… willing to consider. And of course there were always whispers of him doing more sinister things with his abilities.

Whispers that apparently had gotten as far as Central, it would seem. Roy could only imagine what this officer's female friends had warned her of before her transfer.

"So why the move to the East, Second Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, complying with her wishes to remain proper. The things that were said about him were not entirely baseless. The ones to do with the women themselves, at least. He had never knowingly used alchemy to make a conquest on that front, at least that he was willing to admit. He knew that alchemy was never required; one only had to learn what the girl wanted. And what this one wanted now was a comfortable distance.

'_More fun letting them come to me anyway,'_ he couldn't help but think.

"Just looking for a change of scenery, sir," the Second Lieutenant replied in a voice that said "None of your business."

Roy sighed again, wincing as his headache redoubled its efforts to make him believe his forehead was splitting open. Typical for his life. When he wanted to talk, the other person was tight lipped. And when he just wanted to stop talking and leave, the idiot on the other side of the phone wouldn't shut up. Roy grimaced in more than physical pain as he remembered the conversation he had with his best friend over the phone just before he left.

~…~

"Hughes, I don't need you to update me on every little thing your daughter does!"

"You wouldn't say that if you say how absolutely adorable she is on that little toy piano. I swear she's going to take Central by storm someday!"

"You said that last week when she scribbled on a page and you thought she'd become a famous artist. And the weak before that when she decorated that cake your wife made and thought she'd open a bakery. And-"

"I know, my little Elicia is so multitalented! She definitely takes after my beautiful wife."

"Hughes, I've spent the last half an hour listening to you gush about your daughter. Don't make me spend the next listening to you do the same with your wife."

"You wouldn't say that if you had a lady of your own to gush about."

Silence fell on the conversation. For a moment Hughes said nothing as he contemplated the mistake he had just made.

"Sorry. Wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry."

"So, how are things going over there?"

"I'm wishing someone had dealt with this damn priest before he started an uprising. These Letoites are fighting as though they have no fear of death."

"Which is why they sent for a State Alchemist."

"Exactly."

There was another moment of awkward silence. Roy knew Hughes well enough to know that he would never stay this quiet for this long unless there was something that he wanted to say but was afraid to bring up.

"What is it?"

"… Are you sure that was the only reason you were sent?"

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. Why are else would I be here?"

"Well, it just that I've been keeping my ear to the ground."

"Yes…"

"And you know how rumors fly here in Central."

"What are you getting at Hughes?"

"Only that I there's word that someone else in the area. If she's joined up with Cornelo-"

Roy didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence before hanging up. He would be mad, but Roy knew that Hughes would forgive him. That man knew Roy well enough to know he always got like this whenever _she_ came up in conversation.

~…~

Roy peeled his forehead from the window, turning back to his briefcase. He couldn't help it. He knew he shouldn't, knew it would do no one any good. He knew the files were there, they always were, and he had read them enough that he knows most of it off by heart. But nothing could stop his hand from reaching in and pulling them out.

The first two were relatively unimportant. They detailed the appearance of two Ishvalans. One large and muscular, the other thin, wearing glasses, and with tattoos on both arms. Similarities in appearance have led to the belief that these two are related, and their ages probably indicate that they are brothers, or some similar relationship. But these two were unimportant apart from the woman they have been known to associate with.

Short blonde hair. Intense brown eyes. About twenty years of age. Unconfirmed reports of mild facial disfiguration. Enemy of the state, wanted for crimes committed in Ishval, such as the impeding of a State Alchemist in the line of his duty and the endangerment and assault of military and civilian personnel.

At least that was the official story. To those who had dwelt in the region she had been found in, this was the saviour sent to them by Ishvala himself, the only reason that the Ishvalan people were not simply a memory today.

Roy took out the picture. There were none in the report, she had been far too careful for that. The picture he held was from her teenage years, when she had been innocent and he had been a friend wishing for something more.

She was Riza Hawkeye, the Angel of the Kanda region.

~…~

The sound of gunshots filled the streets as Rose threw herself through the doorway and pressed herself against the wall. Some Letoites might have said it was cowardly to avoid the fighting, she knew this. The Prophet Cornelo had told them that once they had taken the land and founded the holy nation, those who had fallen in battle would be raised up to life eternal. Rose knew these words were the words of Leto himself, and did not question them. Nevertheless, she had duties beyond firing the weapon she gripped in her hands, duties that the Sun God needed her alive to perform.

She remained still for a moment, listening for any sounds that would indicate that soldiers were still in pursuit. Once she was assured that she was not followed, she turned her attention to the others in the room.

The sick, the wounded, and those too weak to fight sat huddled around, most looking fearful. Rose felt pity for them. These were faithful souls, she knew this, but they were not warriors. They still held a fear of death, even with the assurance of the Sun God. She could not fault them for this. They all were only mortal men and women, just like her, prone to their failings. It was only through the grace of Leto that any of them could take up arms in this holy battle.

"How are things?" Rose asked the nearest man, putting down her gun. He was an old friend who had, before the holy war began, own and operated a small restaurant. Rose had never met a more faithful soul, and remembered when she would sit and listen to the broadcasts of the Prophet with him; the man had never changed his radio to any other station. She recalled how hard it had been to convince him that staying back and tending to the wounded was just as noble a calling as fighting on the front lines for Leto.

"Most are doing better," he said, "I'd say most everyone will pull through, Leto willing."

"Can they move?"

"I suppose, though you might have to ask the layabout."

Rose gave him a stern glare. Rose knew that the man he was referring to was well and fully capable. Her friend thought him lazy, a coward, sometimes even a traitor for not going into battle, but Rose knew better. She had seen the ferocity with which he fought the soldiers of Amestris, a ferocity she knew could only be born out of a zeal for God. She also knew why he refused to re-enter the battle.

She moved past her old friend, knowing that getting into an argument over the faith of one man would serve no purpose. She shuffles past the various occupants of the room, offering encouragement and condolences as appropriate. Eventually she made her way to the back of the room, pulling aside the ragged sheet and passing through the doorway behind it.

The man, or layabout as her friend called him, sat unmoving in the dark room beyond. After a moment Rose realized that he is in fact sleeping, much like the woman in the bed beside him. She reached over carefully, ready to leap away in case he lashed out like she had heard he did sometimes upon waking. Thankfully, he opened his eyes when she touched the dark skin of his bare shoulder without even twitching.

"How is she?" Rose asked, nodding towards the woman in bed. After being caught in an explosion during a battle, his wife had been bedridden, and he had yet to leave her side for anything other than food or to relieve himself. Rose found it beautiful, and couldn't help but feel sympathy, remembering herself in a similar situation not long ago. She prayed that Leto would have mercy and allow this man to enjoy the gift which Rose had been denied.

"She sleeps easier," said the man in his rough, gravelly voice.

"Is she strong enough to stand?"

"She seems to think so," a frail voice from the bed said. The woman rose to a sitting position slowly. She seemed small and pale, especially against her dark giant of a husband. Other than that, there was little Rose could tell, with the majority of her face being covered in bandages which hid severe burns. All that could really be seen was her weak smile and her left eye, brown and unfocused.

"Do you think that you can travel?"

"Has Cornello finally granted us an audience?" the man asked. Some might have considered it heretical to refer to the Prophet so casually by his name, but Rose supposed that it was probably a result of his Ishvalan upbringing. And the man was so desperate to meet the Prophet, so convinced it would only take a moment for him to heal his wife, that Rose could never think of anything he did as heresy.

"I'm sorry Rikan," she said, "but we only need to relocate to avoid the advance of the Central soldiers."

"Central is sending soldiers?" the woman asked, a growing concern in her voice.

"Yes, so we need to move now. Do you think you can move?"

The woman seemed to give it some thought, and then nodded.

"Good. Get ready, I'll make sure there is a horse waiting for you."

~…~

The woman watched as Rose left, looking to her partner as soon as she was out of sight.

"This complicates things," she said to the Ishvalan, her voice much stronger than it had been moments before.

"Do you think that they have sent a State Alchemist?" Rikan asked. The woman had learned over the years the subtle details of the man's growl that betrayed his thoughts, and she could almost hear anticipation in what he said.

"Remember what we are here for," she chastised, "we need to reach Cornello. We cannot waste time dealing with your vendetta."

The man cracked his knuckles like he always did when he was agitated, but offered no argument. For that she was glad. After nearly two months of getting so close, she knew that if they drew undue attention to themselves now everything could be lost.

"We should go," Rikan said, noticing the sounds of people in the other room were beginning to fade. He rose to leave, only stopping once he had reached the door and realized that the woman had not moved to follow.

"Where are you going?" she asked, "You don't expect an injured woman to walk all the way, do you?"

The woman smiled she watched the large Ishvalan walk back towards her bed. She had never liked the idea of depending on anyone, but she took some satisfaction in forcing this man who disliked her so greatly to play the role of doting husband.

And in the life that Riza Hawkeye had led, she had learned long ago to savor what few joys she could find.

~…~

And now, author's notes. In case it wasn't apparent, this is an AU fic depicting a universe where Roy Mustang never learned Flame Alchemy. I'm trying to tie every aspect that has been changed into this little alteration. Of course various leaps in logic must be taken, and I hope that I'll be able to explain my more far out ideas.

For example, why would Cornello's plot have spread to full grown revolution in this universe? Well, a fairly simple cascade of events really. Roy was in this universe not officially a state alchemist until _after_ the Civil War in Ishval. Because of this, when news of the Elrics made its way to the military, a more well established State Alchemist was sent to collect them. Said alchemist was not as understanding of the situation, so Ed never became a State Alchemist, thus meaning that no Fullmetal Alchemist was around to reveal Father Cornello's deception, allowing his plan to move along unimpeded.

Yes, there are some major assumptions in there, but that's kind of the point of an AU fic in my opinion: imagining the greatest amount of change from the smallest starting event.

Anyway, hopefully this is enjoyable. I'll be posting the next chapter soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So have you heard Miasma's going to be taking the field?" Falman asked his partner.

"The Demon of Ishval is here?" Havoc replied incredulously. There had been rumor going around that Central had authorized the mobilization of a State Alchemist, but no one seemed to know who was being sent. This one said that it was the Silver Alchemist, that one said the Iron Blood Alchemist. Jean Havoc had heard some talk about the Miasma Alchemist being the one that was called in, and had disregarded it like the rest. But he also knew the Vato Falman was not one to spread unfounded rumors. If he said that Roy Mustang was here, then it was at least the most probable theory.

Among all the State Alchemists stationed in the east, the Miasma Alchemist was probably the most enigmatic. He was known for being direct and focused almost to the point of obsession, which if rumor was true was how he claimed his state certification. This more than often led to him being secluded from others to delve into his alchemic studies, first inventing and then continually developing his patented gas-based alchemy.

"Hey Falman," Havoc said, "didn't you serve in the same area of Ishval as him? What's he like?"

Probing Falman for information was probably his best bet. The man was known to have an almost perfect memory, especially if it regarded something he had witnessed personally rather than heard second hand.

"Not much to say," Falman replied, "Up until the end of the war he was just rank and file like me. We weren't even in the same squad, so it's not like I was beside him in the field of battle."

"Sure," Havoc said, pressing further, "but what about off the battle field? Talking in the mess hall and whatnot."

"The times I saw him he seemed… conflicted. Always with his face buried in some alchemy book of his, but constantly glancing up. It was like… like he wanted to connect with the other soldiers, but whatever he was doing was more important. Now that I really think on it, there was really only one guy he ever was seen opening up to."

"Oh? And who might that have been?"

"His name was Hughes," a third voice interjected, "Captain Maes Hughes, at the time. He's in intelligence now, so I'm not sure it would be wise to include him in your gossip."

Havoc turned offer a sarcastic thanks to the man who had just spoken when he stopped, his face frozen in an open mouthed position which likely did not help with anyone's impression of his intelligence. But that didn't matter to him as much as the eyes drilling holes into him right now. Eyes that belonged to an instantly recognisable face.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir!" he nearly shouted after his initial shock passed. Instantly his moved into a stiff salute, mirrored almost perfectly by Falman only a split second behind him. His eyes scanned the sky, doing their utmost to ensure that they made no contact with the eyes of the superior officer in front of him.

"What are your names?" the Demon of Ishval asked.

"Sir! I am Warrant Officer Vato Falman, sir!"

"Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, sir!"

The Miasma Alchemist eyed the two critically, like he was examining a particularly intriguing insect under a microscope. Havoc only hoped that he had no intention of squashing this particular bug. He stood stock still, even though he was filled with fear. It wouldn't do any good to meet his doom with trembling knees.

The Lieutenant Colonel continued glaring at the two, and while he was not an unnaturally tall man when he drew himself up to full stature he seemed to tower over them. The expression on his face would not have looked out of place on a statue of some vengeful god.

And then all of a sudden the expression changed. Hard eyes softened, flared nostrils relaxed, and his tightened lips loosened, showing his teeth as his mouth widened into a grin. There was a quick bark of laughter, nearly causing the two soldiers to jump in surprise, followed by a more drawn out and restrained chuckle.

"At ease, you two," Mustang said, waving at them nonchalantly.

"There's no harm in a little conversation, but try not to engage in gossip about someone while they are in earshot."

"Erm… yes sir," Havoc said, lowering his arm. There was no small amount of confusion in the soldier's mind, but it appeared that he was not facing imminent death or punishment, so he allowed himself to relax for the moment. But not too much, he reminded himself as he kept his legs straight and study as columns under him.

"Excuse us sir," Falman asked, "we did not realize that you had already arrived."

"Actually I only just got here. I think I might have gotten a little sidetracked, could either of you point me towards the general?"

Both Havoc and Falman looked at eachother. Given the reputation that the Miasma Alchemist had built, not to mention the grim nature of his abilities, there were both surprised at the relaxed and informal way that he spoke. Wordlessly, they pointed as one over the alchemist's shoulder, towards a tent not far away. He turned to follow their direction, chuckling again.

"Walked right on by," he said to himself, "sometimes I wonder if I need someone walking around with me twenty four seven just to keep me focused. Thank you very much. You may resume your posts."

Mustang turned to walk away, and as he took the first step the two soldiers to his back visibly relaxed. Havoc's shoulders sagged, Falman's head tilted back to gaze at the sky in relief, and both allowed their knees to unlock. Havoc offered a smile to his comrade, before noticing that Mustang had stopped after only a few steps. He turned quickly, and by the time his eyes fell on them again, they had resumed their obviously uncomfortable stances.

"You two," Mustang began, "you've impressed me. You obviously know who I am, and you're obviously frightened of me. Yet when I confronted you, you did not back down. Not a step. I could use men with nerves like that."

And with that, he turned away again. This time the two waited until he was out of sight before relaxing, almost falling to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut. Havoc rested his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Never before had air seemed to taste so good. He looked over to Falman, and couldn't help but smile. Despite being older and therefor supposedly wiser, he could tell that he too had been instinctively refraining from excessive inhaling.

"Well," Havoc said, "that shaved about five years off my life, how about you?"

~…~

Roy entered the general's tent the very picture of military professionalism. He walked straight towards the desk at the far end of the tent, apparently ignoring his surroundings. Of course no one, least of all someone who knew General Grumman personally, could ever actually ignore the bizarre assortment of items the general had assembled in his tent. Roy wondered how exactly Grumman had justified the effort of transporting all this stuff to his superiors in Central, before realizing that he had probably "forgotten" to mention it.

He couldn't help but mentally catalogue each item as he passed them. A rack upon which an entire village's worth of tribal masks hung. A full suit of armour, standing at attention with halberd in hand. A bear, a testament to the general's love of taxidermy, posed so as to appear to be loom over whoever stood in front of it. A statue of a winged woman, dressed in such a way that Roy was tempted to stop and examine further. He maintained focus, however, only slowing slightly as he passed the exceptionally well proportioned figure.

Finally he stood before the general's desk, oddly simple when compared to its surroundings. Grumman himself sat in the uncomfortable chair that came with the utilitarian piece of furniture in front of him. Roy couldn't help but muse on the fact that this elderly man in front of him could justify dragging all this stuff that held no use on the battlefield, but didn't want to bother anyone with bringing a more comfortable chair.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang reporting, sir!" Roy snapped to attention, giving a salute that looked as though it belonged in a textbook. Unfortunately, Lieutenant General Grumman did not respond, as he was currently focused on a chessboard in front of him, apparently partway through a game. Grumman was known to play with several by correspondence when a flesh and blood opponent was not readily available, and Roy could not help but wonder who was giving him such a pause for thought.

It would be improper, of course, for Roy to comment. Had this been a personal visit, he wouldn't hesitate to chat, inquire, and perhaps even offer his opinion, but they were on the field and right now protocol demanded he show the proper respect for his superior.

Even if he had been standing for five minutes in silence.

"Perhaps you should move your kingside bishop, sir?" Roy offered, his patience finally reaching its limit.

The general merely chuckled, showing that he was in fact aware of Roy's presence. He tapped the head of the piece that Roy suggested for a moment, before deciding against it. Instead, he moved his only remaining knight, claiming his opponent's queen. From what Roy could see the lone horseman was clearly at risk of being claimed by his opponent's rook, but he knew better than to comment once the move had been made. Grumman knew this game better than anyone he knew, at there was bound to be a plan behind this.

The general scribbled his move down on a sheet of paper and folded it in half. Finally, he looked upward and greeted Roy with a smile.

"Well then, what can I do for you my boy?"

Roy allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. It was a sort of unofficial standing order from General Grumman, that if he felt no need to stand on formality, Roy shouldn't either. Still, he could not help but maintain some semblance of structure in how he addressed the seated man in front of him.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, the Miasma Alchemist, reporting for duty sir."

"Yes, yes. I was told that you'd be leading a team of Central soldiers in the upcoming attack. Looks like the higher ups are finally listening to me about you."

Roy knew what he meant. While he could not say he did not have a hand in it, Roy had been left in what many considered the backwater East ever since the war with Ishval ended. It had, for a time, suited Roy to be left alone, to continue researching alchemy and refining his techniques. But eventually he knew that he would have to begin moving up in the world if he was going to accomplish his aims.

"In any case," the general continued, "don't let me detain you. The sooner you get onto the field, the sooner we can put this whole sorry mess behind us."

Roy nodded, turning to leave. After only a few steps, however, he stopped. He turned back to face the general, and one did not need to be a great reader of men to tell that he wished to bring something up but was hesitant to do so.

"General," he asked, choosing his words carefully, "may I ask you something?"

A simple nod, accompanied by eyebrows being raise in interest, were the only response the Miasma Alchemist received. He collected his thoughts and spoke slowly, making certain not say anything he shouldn't. Even here, one never knew who might be listening.

"An associate of mine in Central has heard rumors of someone in the area. Someone we are both familiar with. I have to ask, is there any truth to this?"

"Oh, who can say? I'm just an old man, I can hardly keep track of what I had for breakfast this morning, let alone keep tabs on the rumor mill," Grumman responded, and to the uninterested listener it might have seemed like he was casually brushing off the question. Only someone who truly understood the situation between the two men could listen to the unspoken words passing between them.

"I'm afraid that I'm more caught up in the past than paying attention to the present these days," Grumman said conversationally. He seemed quite interested in the chess piece in his hand, the white queen. He turned it over once in his fingers and continued on.

"For example, I was just thinking the other day that it has been years since I've seen my granddaughter."

Roy could not help but tense up. Even when not named, Riza Hawkeye had that effect on him when she entered conversation.

"Yes, not since my son in law's funeral. A good man who taught her well. She was a strong girl, but she took losing him hard. She looked so heartbroken when I left. Trying to put on a strong face, but hurting underneath all the same, with nobody she could trust to fall back on. I hope that I can see her smile again one day. Soon, if at all possible. But I suppose that is out of both of our hands now, isn't it? Don't let my silly ramblings keep you, Mustang. You have a battle to win, after all."

Roy nodded curtly and left the tent. He hadn't missed the edge in the general's voice, a tone that bordered on the accusatory. He hadn't said anything, because in truth he couldn't argue against the simple fact that his actions were, at least in part, what drove Riza to where she was today. He looked towards the direction of the militants, where he would be engaging in battle not too long from now. If she was somewhere over there, he was going to bring her back to her grandfather.

He owed them both that much at least.

~…~

"Come on you stupid beast, move!"

Her friend pulled at the old horse, but Rose knew that it was a meaningless gesture. The poor animal was probably far too old to have been force to take anyone as its rider, but they could not simply leave Rikan's wife to walk on her own, not in her condition. She placed a calming hand on the man's shoulder, and then craned her neck to smile at the bandaged woman behind her. She smiled back, petting the neck of the horse to reassure it. Her husband walked dutifully beside her, and unlike the others in the small procession did not react to the sounds of gunfire from behind them, despite the fact that the four of them bringing up the rear were the closest to the danger.

"Those heathens will be upon us soon if we don't pick up the pace," the man beside Rose grumbled for the umpteenth time. Rose sighed but did not say anything. She thought that it was sad what war did to people. True, this was holy war, but all the same she could remember a time in which she would never have felt uncomfortable talking with a friend of hers.

Rose wondered if she could obtain an audience with the Prophet to help clear these worries from her mind once they reached Liore. She knew that her fears should have been decreasing now that the gunfire had quietened, but-

Rose stopped in her tracks, startling the horse behind her. She was thankful that Rikan was around to ensure that his wife was not thrown, but that thought was not at the forefront of her mind at the moment. They had not progressed that far; by all rights, they should still be within earshot of most of the fighting. And yet now she only heard the occasional gunshot ring out.

Rose fixed her gaze behind the group, trying to determine what had happened. Something was wrong, she could tell that. Fighting in the dry east often resulting in kicking up dust, but the cloud that had enveloped the battle was far too thick to simply be the result of the actions of men.

At least, or normal men.

The pieces clicked into place in Rose's brain when two things occurred: first, a flash of blue, like lighting emanating from the ground, appeared out of the cloud, and then, a figure stumbled into view. He tried to run away, towards their fleeing caravan, but did not make it far. Letting out a scream that could only barely be heard, the man fell and did not rise.

Rose put her hands to her mouth in shock. Slowly, she said the thought that was beginning to dawn on the rest of those who had turned to investigate.

"An alchemist," she whispered, "The military has sent a State Alchemist."

~…~

Well, apparently 'soon' translates to 'within several months'. Sorry about the holdup, let's hope that the next chapter doesn't take half a year.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Roy Mustang stood back and watched the Demon of Ishval do his work.

There was a certain professional pride Roy could take in having created such a powerful and versatile weapon. Back when his alchemy was first used in Ishval, much had to be improvised. A tank of gas had been strapped to the Demon's back, a bright target which would have provided any with the presence of mind to fire upon it a spectacular lightshow and one dead Amestrian soldier who had thought he could play alchemist. But theatricality has always been a powerful thing. With dark gas billowing from tubes strapped to his wrists, augmented by a periodic flash of alchemy, he had looked like a monster rising from some hellish pit. A simple gasmask was all that was needed to complete the effect. The moment it had been donned, Roy Mustang had stepped aside and the Demon was unleashed upon the world.

Now, after many years and several advances, the Demon was more terrifying than ever. Gone was the giant metallic target strapped to its back; Roy had found after much research that most of the necessary elements for everything he needed to create were already present in the atmosphere in some form or another, requiring only a little alchemy to reconfigure into the weapons the military desired. Only a handful of supplementary gasses were required now, hosted on a series of small tanks circling the Demon's wrists, sealed tight and opened individually with alchemy. Perhaps more importantly than the advancement in technique, however, was the appearance. The faceless mask that the Demon wore had become iconic, and even as the military issued newer models that had remained the same, but whereas in Ishval the apparition had only worn the simple uniform of a soldier, a more unique appearance had been fashioned for its latest unveiling. Dressed in midnight black, with a long coat billowing behind it, it seemed as though the night itself had come to fight against these warriors of the Sun God, summoning forth dark clouds with only a wave of its hand.

Indeed, Roy could feel pride in his creation of the Demon of Ishval. But pride in the creation of a weapon and pleasure in its use were two entirely different things.

With blackness enveloping everything, there was an almost eerie calm over the battlefield, one that lasted for a moment only to be broken by a solitary gunshot, a scream of panic and agony, or a gurgling cry as the air became poison in a man's very lungs, and then just as quickly return again. Everywhere the eye fell, there was another body, another trophy for the Demon.

And the blood. While gunfire rang out on occasion, the decreased visibility had rendered firearms a less than efficient means of dispatching enemies. In these conditions the soldiers from Central, men who had trained to serve under one of the most notorious State Alchemists ever to rise out of the East, fell back on melee weaponry, swords, bayonets, and combat knives. All were fearsome, none more so than the Demon himself. With twin knives he spun in a dance of death, felling any man strong enough to stand the poisoned air and brave enough to stand against this embodiment of death. Red stained black and the ground drank in the blood like rain after a long drought. Roy found himself wondering what sort of flowers would bloom, here in this garden of blood.

He very quickly decided that he did not wish to find out.

~…~

Rose pulled at the horse, too panicked now to note the irony that this was exactly what she was considering telling her friend off for only a few moments previous. The man himself stood behind the rest of them holding a rifle, the only weapon that existed between the four of them, while Rikan tried futilely to urge the aged horse carrying his wife to move faster. The rest of their group of non-combatants had already outpaced them, for which Rose was glad. She had thought that perhaps the dark cloud that had enveloped the battlefield might dissipate before it reached them, or that the soldiers might not see these people as a threat, but both hopes were dashed as the miasma advanced.

"You two need to run now!" the woman shouts, almost surprising Rose with her intensity; apparently fear allowed her to ignore her deteriorating physical state to some degree for the time being. Rose was not about to bet on her being able to run by herself though.

"I'm not going to leave you both to these heathens!" Rose shouted back. She looked beyond the horse to Rikan. "Do you think you can carry her?"

"Of course."

"Good," Rose said, dropping the horse's reins and motioning for him to take his wife. Rose turned her attention to her rifle wielding friend. "We have to go now, and make sure the others-"

Her words were cut off by two gunshots, the first from the rifle in her friend's hands and the second from a soldier that had emerged from the cloud. Rose could not stop herself from letting out a short scream as the man fell to the ground, a look of shock on his face. The noise of gunfire had another effect, shocking the horse into action where Rose and Rikan had failed. It reared, throwing its rider to the ground, and bolted. Even old and tired, it was still a horse, and at top speed being fueled by terror Rose knew that they had no chance of catching it.

Rose rushed toward the fallen woman, joining Rikan in kneeling beside her. The fall had dazed the poor woman, and looking up she saw that the deadly cloud was advancing faster than she had first thought. Perhaps they could have prolonged being caught in it by a few minutes if they still had the horse, but as the situation was right at that instant the cloud would be upon them in seconds. Fear gripped Rose's heart as she realized that there would be no power on Earth that could save them.

"Elizabeth, Rikan," she said, "join with me in prayer. Only the might of Leto can save us this day."

Elizabeth nodded, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together. Rikan remained still, ridged and staring at the approaching wall of blackness. Rose took a deep breath, put her hands over Elizabeth's, and closed her eyes as the darkness overtook them.

~…~

A lull had fallen in the disjointed cacophony. Screams resounded from ahead, revealing the location of the next targets. Roy hated it, but those were his orders, the reason that the Demon had been released: ensure that there were no survivors. The Demon continued forward, its eyes scanning around. Contrary to the various myths that had arisen surrounding him, his eyes could not pierce the darkness he had created as though it was clear daylight. It took constant attention and a trained eye to even notice the simple things which could get one killed on the battlefield. The slightest shift in the way the vapours curled, stones shifting as footfalls displace them, so many things could indicate an enemy seeking to end the Demon's reign of terror.

As soldiers rushed past, the Demon of Ishval paused. Something was amiss, though exactly what he could not say. There had been no sound, no movement, nothing that the average human's senses had picked up that could have possibly have alerted him to this. Nevertheless, he turned, searching with his trained eye for something while the remainder of the force he lead charged forward.

There was a flash of gold.

The Demon's eyes trained on it, and in an instant Roy Mustang had replaced it. He had his promise to fulfill.

~…~

Rose's eyes were squeezed shut, so she only had the sound of footfalls to tell her that they were surrounded by soldiers. Not that leaving her eyes open would have served any purpose. The cloud summoned by the military's State Alchemist had practically been opaque to Rose's eye, and she could not imagine that it would be any easier to pierce while within it. Rose was thankful for this, however, as the footfalls continued past them. Low to the ground, and as still as they were being, it appeared that the three of them were escaping the attention of the Central soldiers.

The remainder of the group Rose had lead were not as fortunate. Rose could hear the screams, and the sickening way they stopped as the cloud and the soldiers overtook them. There were no gunshots. None were necessary.

_'Leto be with them,'_ Rose prayed, clasping Elizabeth's hands even tighter. _'Oh God, watch over their souls and keep them to the resurrection.'_

Rose's lungs burned, begging for air.

_'God in whom I trust, please keep me in this day.'_

She would not last long. Rose wondered if Elizabeth and Rikan were even alive anymore, she had not heard anything from either of them.

_'Please protect and guide, and show me your way.'_

Rose was afraid. All of her faith, all of the strength of God could not change this fact. Rose was afraid to die.

_'Please forgive my weakness, and welcome me into your arms. Amen.'_

Finally, she could hold out no longer. Ending her prayer, Rose gasped, and waited for death to take her.

When nothing happened, Rose's curiosity got the better of her. Had it been that painless, that she hadn't even noticed slipping out of the mortal coil? She opened her eyes, and was shocked at what she saw.

Squinting, she realized that the air around her was clear. Impossibly, the wall of black that had taken so many lives surrounded them but came no closer, as though they were in the eye of a storm. Rose could not stop herself from laughing in surprised joy. They were alive! Leto himself had provided them a miracle! She looked to her companions to share her excitement with them, but found them unresponsive and unreceptive. Indeed, they seemed transfixed by something, Elizabeth's expression strangely blank and Rikan's clouded with anger and hate.

Rose turned, and realized for the first time that they were not alone. Not two feet from where she crouched, standing as still as though he had been carved from stone, stood the Demon of Ishval.

~…~

The Miasma Alchemist stood transfixed. If any could have seen his eyes through the expressionless lenses of his mask, they would have found his eyes unmoving, having fallen on the young woman wrapped in bandages.

It was her. Riza Hawkeye, the woman who had haunted him ever since that cold stare she had given him at her father's gravestone, was right in front of him. He had followed her movements as best he could, his obsession with her the only thing rivalling his obsession with perfecting his alchemy. He had tried to pinpoint where she had gone and predict where she'd be next, but in the end his duty had brought him here, face to face with her. Time seemed to stand still. Roy wondered which of them would break the spell first.

As it turned out, neither of them would. It was the man, the Ishvalan who acted first. Roy should have expected as much, everything about the man gave the impression of someone ready for a fight, from the general tone of his muscles to the aggressive expression he wore. On top of that, Roy had read his report. Name unknown, this man had been consistently spotted in the same areas where the Angel of Kanda had been sighted, even so far as to appear alongside her. He seemed to act as her protector (as though she needed one), and always seemed willing to pick a fight with Amestrian soldiers.

Roy cursed himself for losing focus as the man closed the distance between them in an instant. This was something else he should have expected. From those who had knowledge of the subject of Ishvalan fighting styles, he had been identified as one of the religions warrior monks, and quite an advanced one at that. Even his usual opening move, an open palm aimed at his opponent's face, was well documented. In many cases it was enough to end the fight in one blow, and in one case had resulted in death due to skull fracture (though the coroner was quick to point out that the fractures were in the back of the skull, where the soldier's head had met with a concrete wall). Roy's reaction was slow, but he did manage to minimize contact. In the end all that his opponent ended up doing was ripping the mask from his face, but in many ways this was as damaging as any injury. The without the mask there was no Demon, only Roy Mustang, who was as mortal as any other man. He pulled out his combat knives and hoped that Roy Mustang would be enough.

~…~

Riza had suspected who this was from the moment she had laid eyes on him. Even on the run, she had heard whispers of the activities of the Demon of Ishval, more officially known as the Miasma Alchemist. She had known his identity, but it was still somewhat of a shock to see the face of Roy Mustang when the mask had been ripped away. The man who had been one of her few friends in her younger years, who had been her father's pupil, who had betrayed him when he joined the military, now stood before her as an enemy. But whatever mixed feelings seeing that face brought up, Riza kept her face blank, thankful for the face coving bandages which helped to hide her expression. Any indication that she knew him might give the girl currently clinging to her reason to be suspicious, and she couldn't afford that.

She knew that she should let Rikan handle this, but all the same her hand drifted towards the gun hidden on her person, the gun she never was without.

~…~

This man had been fighting most of his life, Roy realized, and it showed. Roy had graduated from the military academy with high praise, being nearly unequaled in his hand to hand training, and still this man was keeping pace with him. Roy managed to avoid a fist being aimed at his face, and attempted to retaliate with his knives, only to receive an elbow to the gut for his efforts. If things kept going like this, there was a very real chance that he might not end this before the rest of his forces arrived. This called for a change in strategy.

"Impressive," Roy said, cradling his gut and backing away slightly, "I suspect those combat skills were what got you through Ishval."

"I'd say the same of you," the man spat, "but I know your face. It was only your heretics alchemy that kept you alive while you decimated my homeland. Miasma Alchemist, you dare to spit in the face of God, and now you will face holy judgement."

"If a stray dog like you is all that God can throw at me, then I don't think I need fear damnation for some time yet."

In truth, while Roy was not religious himself he felt no animosity towards faith. He would even be fine with the Letoites if their beliefs didn't lead them to take up arms against the State. His harsh words were in fact a tactic, and one that worked perfectly. The Ishvalan charged, screaming in fury, but his anger made his movements unfocused and predictable. With him in this state it was child's play for Roy to turn his strength against him and send him to the ground. He didn't give the man time to react, pressing his blade against his throat with the intention of a quick kill, but the sound of a firearm being readied stopped him.

"Step away from that man," Riza Hawkeye said, pointing her gun at Roy. It was an old revolver, but at this range it wouldn't matter, especially if the rumors surrounding the Angel of Ishval's abilities were true. Roy remained frozen, and was at least pleased that the man on the ground did the same; apparently he had calmed down enough to realize that trying anything right now might cause the knife pressed against his throat to slip and finish him off.

Their eyes meet again, and this time there is no mask to hide him. Her face remains impassive. Did she not know him anymore, or did she simply not care?

"Riza."

"Step away from him Mustang."

"Finish him now!"

"I am handling this, Rikan."

"Riza…"

"Put down your weapon at once!"

None of the three responded to the newest voice. Only the girl clinging to Riza responded to the fact that soldiers were beginning to come out of the now fading cloud and surround them. Visibility returned, all of the soldiers held rifles and were bringing them to bear. Roy knew that regardless of what Riza was capable of, these were the best trained men that Central could send, and they had orders to leave no survivors. One wrong move, and no matter how many Riza could take out, a bullet would make its way to her.

Roy acted quickly. Shifting imperceptibly, he eased up on the pressure that the knife exerted on the Ishvalan's throat. The man responded as expected, swinging a fist around and knocking Roy off of him. The men's attention was diverted, only for a moment, but it was enough. Roy's hand struck at the ground, raising a small amount of dust. The transmutation circle on the back of Roy's glove flashed, and the dust rapidly expanded. Nothing was changed; simple dust was enough to reduce visibility. If questioned later, Roy could claim that the woman still had a weapon trained on him.

He heard the footsteps of soldiers rushing to create a suitable battle formation, and several men being felled by the Ishvalan in the confusion. As single set of footsteps approached him. Roy remained on the ground, partially to avoid detection if it was an enemy, and partially because the last blow he had sustained had hurt him more than he cared to admit. The footsteps stopped, and Roy could see through the dust that they belonged to a woman.

"This changes nothing," Riza said after a moment of silence. And with that she left, and Roy was alone.

~…~

Rose was breathless. Riza, who seemed to be rapidly recovering now, had assured her that the unexpected injuries that Rikan had dealt, especially against the commanding officer, would force the soldiers to cease their advance, at least for a time. Still, Rose continued to look back, constantly expecting to hear the thud of soldiers' boots and gunfire right behind them.

"Stop looking back or you will fall behind," Rikan said from the front. They had all agreed that they needed to get word of this back to Liore as soon as possible, but Rikan seemed to want to drive a hellish pace upon them, only held back by his wife. Rose picked up her speed walked next to Elizabeth, who was still holding the pistol she had brought out during the confrontation.

"I didn't even know you had that," Rose whispered, still nervous.

Elizabeth laughed in response and spoke a more audible tone. "I always keep it on me, as a memento," she said. She smiled wistfully.

"It isn't even loaded," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Rose stared wide eyed at the woman. To have confronted that monster with an unloaded weapon revealed a great deal of courage in the woman. Rose was beginning to understand how she and her husband might have been drawn together.

"Come on, we must get to the Prophet quickly," she said to Rose, increasing her pace to keep up with Rikan. Rose nodded, emboldened by the strength of these two mighty servants of God, and followed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The streets of Liore were eerily calm. The people were few and far between, and those that Rose saw who were not warriors patrolling the streets with their weapons at the ready seemed odd. They smiled, some waved or nodded, but it all seemed stiff, like their hearts were not really in it, like it was all just an act. The stress of the prolonged war, Rose supposed. All the more reason that they needed to reach the Prophet as quickly as possible. He needed to know what had happened on the front, so that he could properly lead the army of God to victory.

The trio made their way towards the church in relative silence. Occasionally Elizabeth or Rikan would whisper something to the other, but otherwise there was no conversation. Rose did not wish to intrude upon their conversation, which they obviously wished to keep to themselves, but she could not help but become curious as to what they were talking about.

~…~

"Stop fidgeting, you're going to get us noticed."

"You would not understand," Rikan hissed back, "you do not know what it is to hold the truth of God in your heart. I cannot help but feel wrong, here in this city of heresy."

"Stop that," Riza said to the Ishvalan, grabbing his arm and whispering in his ear, "if you are overheard then all of this was for nothing."

"Get off of me."

"What? Am I that horrible a wife?" There was a teasing tone to her voice as she let slip a subtle smile. The ruse had initially been her idea, partially because it gave an ironclad excuse to anyone as to why a combat able man would not participate in the fighting and instead stay by her side constantly, and partially because of how uncomfortable it made him. Their feelings for each other, far from positive, were quite mutual after all.

"Enough," he said, pulling himself away as casually as possible, "let us simply get this done so that I do not have to live this charade any longer."

"Which charade would that be? Having to pretend to be a Letoite, or pretending to be married to me?"

"Both are equally detestable."

~…~

They approached the entrance to the church, which at once seemed simple and grand, a suitable dwelling for God's greatest servant. The men at the door seemed reluctant to let them pass, but once Rikan growled that they had come from the front lines with urgent news, they relented. They were ordered to remove all weapons before being ushered into the Prophet's presence, which turned out to be a point of contention.

"Miss, please give us your gun."

Elizabeth clutched the pistol to herself, as though it was something precious. Rose recalled that she had called it a memento, and for the first time she wondered of what. Looking at it, she thought she could see something scratched into it, but before she could tell what Elizabeth shifted, blocking it from sight.

"Please," Elizabeth pleaded, seeming vulnerable, "I… I don't like parting with this."

"We cannot allow you to bring a weapon into the presence of the Prophet."

"This is pointless," Rikan said, "just let us through."

"Your wife will have to relinquish her weapon first."

"Please, don't take this from me."

"Brother Cray," Rose said, hesitantly interjecting herself into the confrontation, "if you just inspect it, you'll see the weapon isn't loaded. And you can search us for ammunition. What harm can a gun do if it doesn't have bullets?"

The man considered her words for a moment, before nodding.

"Very well. Give us a moment, and then we will take you to the Prophet. Just don't waste his time."

"Don't worry," Rikan said, "we will make this as quick as possible."

Rose smiled at Elizabeth as they were ushered into the building. While she didn't say anything, Elizabeth smiled back, mouthing the words _thank you_ to Rose.

~…~

Roy Mustang grimaced. The march towards Liore was proceeding unimpeded, but they had been delayed by the run in with the Ishvalan, so the entire unit was taking a cautious pace, knowing that if any survivors had escaped then they could very well have reached the centre of the uprising and given them a chance to prepare themselves for the arrival of the Central forces.

Objectively, Roy could see the stupidity of his actions. He had endangered all the men under his command, and given the enemy time to regroup. A key aspect in the battle strategy was surprise; if they could move fast enough and ensure that no survivors could retreat to bring word of it, they could sweep out the Letoites with relative ease. Because of what had transpired, now their duty was considerably more difficult to accomplish.

Still, Roy did not regret his actions. The specifics of this mission mattered little to him. It was, all things said and done, a means to an end. Accomplishing this would earn him respect among the senior staff, perhaps not much, but he had make use of every little bit of sway he could get his hand on.

Which was why the rumors flying around the camp the previous night were something of a mixed blessing. Of course the men had seen her, and they were informed enough to know that a blonde woman who could stand against a State Alchemist could only be one person, even if they didn't know of her shared history with this particular alchemist. Already, men were whispering about how the Angel of Kanda had fought her way past men who were twice her size (which may have been an exaggeration, but Roy would not have doubted that she could have). The idea that the notorious woman who had been the salvation of the Ishvalans, who had stood against the Crimson Alchemist himself and not only lived, but had dealt him a blow from which he had never truly recovered, was now fighting for the Letoites was a sensational one. Should they be victorious, it would only make the men who fought look braver.

And of course, the man who felled the Angel would win himself eternal glory. That was the problem, Roy thought. While he was glad that his men were not the sort to fall to fear over confronting an unexpected enemy, he could have done without them being so eager. Should Riza actually be involved in the upcoming battle, she would be the prime target, second (possibly) only to Cornello himself. And of course, it was expected that should she show herself, the resident State Alchemist would be ready to retaliate. There would be no room for another deception.

That was the grim thought that haunted Roy Mustang as the city of Liore came into view and the troops began to prepare themselves for the battle ahead. Should he and Riza Hawkeye meet again in those streets, he could not spare her. If the Angel and Demon should meet, only one would walk away alive.

~…~

Rose had walked these halls before, back when Father Cornello had first come to Liore and founded the Church of Leto, back when she had been among one of the faith's first followers. But despite her familiarity, she could not help but feel awe over the holiness of this place. The men that that led her, Rikan, and Elizabeth were silent with reverence. Elizabeth was withdrawn, having drawn her hood up, and Rikan tense, both of them obviously moved by being in the holiest ground on Earth.

Finally, they reached the doors to the Prophet's chambers. Two of the men in front of them walked forward, one taking each door and opening them with ceremony. Two who had trailed behind them stayed behind, standing watch as the doors closed.

Of their group of three, Rose was the first to enter. She rushed forward, heedless of the men standing with study staves to each side (even his closest followers were not permitted to wear firearms in the presence of the Prophet). When she reached the man for whom she held such respect, Rose fell to her knees. Clutching his hand, she kissed the ring upon it, watching the red jewel shine even here in this dark room.

"Father Cornello," she said, falling back instinctually to the name which she knew from so long ago. The bald man smiled warmly down at the girl at his feet. In his priestly garb he seemed fatherly and kind, a figure of authority in whom anything could be trusted.

"Rose, it is so good to see you again."

"Father," she said, looking up with concern in her voice, "we bring troubling news from the front lines."

"Do not be troubled, child," Cornello said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder, "we are the chosen of the Sun God. Leto has willed that we shall be victorious."

"But Father, the military has sent a State Alchemist! I have seen him myself, it is the Demon of Ishval! He wiped out all along the front lines, and now he and his forces are advancing on Liore."

For a moment, a stern look passed over Cornello's features. If it had been any other man, Rose would have thought it was frustration, but Cornello carried with him the assurance of Leto, so of course he had no cause to be frustrated. Surely he was simply pained by the actions of the heathens, so against the will of God.

"As I said, child, do not be troubled. We are protected by Leto. We need only have faith and-"

Cornello was cut off by a sound which tore through all of Liore: the sounding of a military trumpet, and the thunderclap of gunfire. Cornello's face paled, and from behind her Rose heard the voice of Rikan, saying something she never expected.

"It would appear that Leto's protection is not all you have promised."

Rose stood and turned in horror. How could he say such a thing? Was it simply a poor joke? Yet as she turned to face him she saw no mirth in his expression. He simply glared at Cornello while his wife's eyes drifted between the two almost lazily.

"Rose," Father Cornello said, "who are these two?"

"They… this is Rikan, and his wife Elizabeth. They are faithful servants of Leto and-"

"No," Rikan cut her off, "I have, and always serve Ishvala, the one true God."

At this Cornello let out a laugh. "Oh? And do you intend to convert me, Ishvalan?"

"I'm afraid not," Elizabeth said, and then did something that only heightened Rose's horror. With no hesitation in her movements, she fluidly brought her gun up to bare against the Prophet.

"I apologize for having deceived your followers," Elizabeth said coolly, "but then again, you've been doing that for some time. Please move away from the Father, Rose."

"Elizabeth, what is going on?"

"I should think it obvious my child," Cornello said, moving the girl to one side so that he could look at Elizabeth with nothing in the way. The smile on his face seemed harsher now, and Rose could see the strength of the Sun God in his glare.

"These two are obviously Amestrian spies that have infiltrated the ranks of the faithful. While their forces assault us from the outside, they have been sent to kill me."

"Father," one of the men who had entered with them said, "we inspected each of them. That gun is unloaded, and they have no ammunition."

"Thank you Brother Cray. It would seem that the military hasn't thought out this attack as well as they thought. Take them."

Eight men, six who had been in the room beforehand and the two who had followed them in, began to surround Rikan and Elizabeth, staves at the ready. Neither of them paid this any attention, both of them still staring at the Prophet. Elizabeth still had not lowered her weapon, and with the force with which she talked Rose almost forgot that it was a harmless threat.

"I am going to give all of you one chance. Stand aside and let us take the Father. Otherwise I cannot be held responsible for what happens to you."

The men surrounding her did not respond, or else simply smiled at the empty threat. Brother Cray stepped forward, paying no mind to the barrel now pointed at him. Confidently, he walked towards the woman, raising his weapon to strike her down.

Elizabeth expression shifted into a rueful smile, and she pulled the trigger.

Rose did not understand how or why, but suddenly an explosion ripped through the air. She was thrown against a wall, and blackness overtook her and she knew no more.

~…~

Cornello had seen the signs. He had not immediately put together all the pieces, but it finally stuck him in time to put up a wall with alchemy to protect himself. It hadn't been enough; the explosion tore through it and flung him back, through a wall and into the next room. The priest coughed as he pulled himself up and wondered what would have happened if he hadn't reacted.

Several sounds from the same direction caught Cornello's attention. Faintly, he could hear sounds of a struggle, very probably the Ishvalan dealing with those of his followers that were not caught in the blast. Closer, he heard light footsteps making their way towards him, occasionally crunching debris underfoot. He looked up to see the woman, the one whom Rose had called Elizabeth. The explosion hadn't touched her, of course, but it had blown back her hood and loosened the bandages that had been hiding her identity. Both of her eyes were in view now, as well as her short blonde hair and mostly fair skin. The right side of her face insistently drew the eye for being so different. A burn marred her features, old and partially healed. It featured most prominently on her cheek, but extended back behind her hairline and down her neck. Where an ear would have been was simply a mass of scar tissue.

"So it is you," Cornello gasped. "I had my suspicions, and now you've gone and proven them."

The woman did not answer, simply stared down the so called Prophet. Slowly, she raised her weapon, covered in what Cornello now recognized as alchemic formulas. Ever the performer, he could not help but exclaim what he had come to realize as men poured into the room to investigate.

"You're Riza Hawkeye, the Flame of Ishval!"

~…~

A/N: By way of apology for not updating for so long, have another chapter!

I'll probably need to justify myself to someone here, so let's just say this right away. I feel it's pretty well implied (and if not, it is then my firmly established headcannon) that at least in the manga universe, anyone could, theoretically, become an alchemist. Some might not have the talent for it, much like not everyone would have the talent to shoot a sniper rifle or make automail. But if anyone could pick up on alchemy late in life, I think that the daughter of the man who developed Flame Alchemy would be the one.

I'll probably be slowing down with my updates for a bit, but I'm still going to keep going so don't worry! There's still a bunch of the cannon that I haven't defiled!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Cornello rose to his feet with as much grace as he could muster. If he had been alone with this woman he might not have felt the need to stay in character, but even now more of his followers were rushing into the room in response to the blast. He needed to keep the Prophet act up for as long as possible, for them at least.

"Are you unharmed?"

"Father, what is happening?"

"Who is that woman?"

"My children," he shouted, pointing towards the Angel and the Ishvalan man who was stepping through the hole in the wall, "Do not be deceived! What stands before you is no woman, but a demon summoned by this heretic from his false god! You have no reason to fear his sorceries, for you are protected! Be strong, for you are in the embrace of the Sun God Leto!"

His men nodded in one mind and began to advance on the pair. In response, Hawkeye raised her weapon towards the ceiling and pulled the trigger again. There was the telltale spark of an alchemic reaction, and the air above the woman's head bloomed in a fiery explosion. Her fierce eyes scanned the men, seeing her intimidating demonstration had served its purpose. In the silence that followed, the woman's words seemed to be absolute.

"If any of you try it, you are going to know exactly what it feels like to be embraced by the sun."

Cornello had to hide his smirk. _'Another performer,'_ he thought, _'but you've showed up a bit late. These men are in my hand, not yours.'_

Indeed, while all had stood back and hesitated a moment at the display that had been put on, they rallied quickly, slowly advancing on the woman without even a hint of fear. All the same, Cornello decided that a demonstration couldn't hurt. Taking his walking stick in both hands, he tapped the end of it on the ground. He felt the power of the stone on his finger lend itself to him, allowing even this transmutation to be accomplished with minimal effort.

The ground in front of the woman distended. Men gazed in awe, unsure of what was happening for a moment, unsure of whether this was a miracle or another work of their new enemy. Their doubts were put to rest, however, as the stern countenance of Leto, bearded and crowned, began to show itself. Within a few seconds, a stone image of the Sun God stood before the woman, eight feet of divine fury to inspire Cornello's soldiers. _'Simple lambs,'_ Cornello though, _'they will follow anywhere "God" tells them to go.'_

Spurred by alchemy masked as miracles, the statue raised a fist to strike at the woman and her companion. The Ishvalan dived out of the way, but the woman stood unflinching. Raising her weapon, she sent another blast of flame to meet the construct's fist. But Cornello was not a simple minded man. He had anticipated such a response, and as such the fist slowed from the force of the blast but was not completely destroyed. To her credit, the woman did not lose face; she simply jumped backwards and out of the way. She had managed to avoid injury, but the image was enough: Cornello had just proven the dominance of the Sun God over this woman, and now his followers had no reservations in fighting her.

Cornello smiled and left the rest to them. It was doubtful they could deal with the situation, but Cornello needed time to prepare his next move.

~…~

"Rikan, get Cornello!"

Rikan gritted his teeth as he sent another man to the ground. While he hated following the directions of an Amestrian, much less an Amestrian alchemist, he knew that of the two of them, Hawkeye was more capable in dealing with large groups of enemies. Even at close range, where the unthinking use of her Flame Alchemy might result in her harming herself (a result that, if the situation were different, Rikan would not object to), she proved herself an able fighter, making use of her light frame and natural agility to attack and avoid the men who assaulted her. And while Rikan could probably outcompete her in that respect, when combined with her alchemy she was indeed formidable.

He didn't bother with any sort of audible response, instead simply charging towards the doorway that Cornello had used. Men who either heard the woman's command or else simply had the presence of mind to determine his intent stood resolutely at the door, while five others ran forward to detain him. The first swung his staff with what appeared to be all the force he could muster, which explained his surprise when Rikan stopped its motion by catching the staff in his left hand. Pulling, Rikan thrust the tip of the staff in his possession into the gut of a man attempting to attack him from behind who apparently did not understand that screaming essentially defeated the purpose of a sneak attack. In the same motion, Rikan's fist met with the face of the man still holding the other end of the staff, rendering him unconscious. The Ishvalan retained the staff for only a moment, long enough to use it to trip the remaining attackers that closed in, before throwing it away into another oncoming foe.

All immediate threats dealt with, Rikan resumed his charge towards the men guarding the door, who to their credit did not seem concerned about the man who had just single-handedly felled five men in as many seconds. Faith, even faith in a false god, was a powerful motivator, Rikan knew. He never had the opportunity to test his faith against theirs, however, as a fiery explosion threw them aside before he reached them, clearing the way for him.

Without even acknowledging the assistance, Rikan ran through the door and in the last direction that he had seen Cornello running. A few men attempted to stand in his way, and they were handled with hardly a thought, but many did not pay him any mind. It would seem that the Central attack that was underway had caught many off guard and resulted in quite a bit of disarray. Rikan could remember similar tactics being used during the assault on his own homeland, and had seen how quickly and effectively the Amestrian military could work. He would need to find Cornello quickly.

As it happened, tracking Cornello proved relatively simple. Rikan simply had to look at the direction the men who chose to attack him were running from, knowing that in this confusion there was no chance the false priest was going to be able to effectively relay orders except in person. His assumption proved correct, leading him to an underground chamber in the church where Cornello was waiting, standing on a platform at the top of a short set of stairs.

"Well," he said, hands resting against the railing in front of him, "the Ishvalan did follow me. Did the woman alchemist fall before the warriors of Leto?"

"I care neither for her nor your mislead congregation," Rikan answered, "I only seek answers."

"Come then, I am sure the Sun God Leto will give you what you seek."

"Do not patronize me, you fraud." Rikan cracked his knuckles, and Cornello's expression noticeably darkened.

"Very well," the bald man said, "I can see there will be no reasoning with you. Let the judgement of Leto fall upon you!"

With a flourish, the man stepped to one side to reveal a switch on the wall behind him. His face split into a sadistic grin as he pulled it, and Rikan heard the sound of metal sliding off to his side. He turned in time to see a gate recede into the stone ground, and from the darkness beyond it a creatures stepped out. It was no natural thing, that could be seen almost immediately. Its front half was that of a lion, though one more feral than any Rikan had seen in his life, while its hindquarters looked lizard like, or perhaps even avian.

"Another godless abomination," Rikan muttered. This creature was obviously a chimera, a creature created by perverting God's own creatures with alchemy, which confirmed the suspicions that he and Hawkeye had been holding. The fraudulent priest was an alchemist, passing off heathen tricks as miracles. _'Yet one more thing he will have to face judgement for,'_ Rikan thought as he prepared to meet the monster in combat.

~…~

The fighting on the streets was furious. As expected, the survivors had managed to put the city of Liore into a state of high alert. The Central forces had managed to break through the defensive perimeter the Letoites had set up, but from there it was slow going. After the first couple of streets their momentum stalled; it appeared that someone in the city had the forethought to stockpile gas masks, meaning that the rebels and soldiers were now fighting on a roughly equal battlefield. The Demon for the most part had to be content with reducing visibility, though the toxins in the air did still serve their purpose. There were only so many gas masks to go around after all, and while the most expert combatants were protected many of the lesser fighters could still choke on the poisoned fumes. Roy was glad to see that his men were still winning, but this was taking too long. If the fighting slowed any further they risked letting Cornello get away.

Roy knew that the priest of Leto was the key to all of this; defeating him would end the uprising, and, on a more personal note, he may know the reason that Riza was here and apparently fighting for him. The masked alchemist had his suspicions about that, something here did not add up, and he fully intended to get answers before this battle was over. But no answers would wait in an empty temple. He needed to get to the Letoites stronghold as quickly as possible.

The Demon darted through the fighting, avoiding gunfire and only engaging those who actively barred his way. Roy had issued orders that his men should open a path for him if at all possible, but these soldiers could only do so much. A man ran into his line of sight, a military gas mask on his face, but his clothes obviously not that of a soldier. The Letoite fell into a charge, which the Demon casually sidestepped, ripping the mask from his face as he passed. As the man's dying scream quickly silenced itself, Roy turned to see two more figures. He recognized that one of them was a friendly, and also that she had not seen the Letoite that was advancing on her. Not having time to close the gap, he threw one of his knives, which found itself a resting place in the neck of the enemy.

"Lieutenant Ross!" he barked as the man fell down. It was a skill that he prided himself on, being able to pick up on little things that let him know who someone was while their face was obscured. If Maria Ross was surprised or impressed by it, however, she did not let it show in her voice. Ensuring a wall was to her back so as to avoid another sneak attack, the Second Lieutenant spoke levelly like she had in the car, albeit at a higher volume to be heard through her mask and over the sounds of battle.

"Sir, we had not anticipated this level of resistance."

"That is no excuse to let your guard down," the Demon responded, pulling his knife out of the fallen foe.

"I am going to press towards the temple; I need to know that the men I leave behind are capable of handling themselves."

"Yes, sir. I won't let one of them get the drop on me again, sir."

"Good." Knowing the battlefield was no place for any sort of longer exchange of words, the Demon of Ishval prepared to move.

"And thank you for your assistance, sir."

"If you wish to thank me," he replied, "then make sure that this battle is won when I see you again."

"Yes sir. Not one of them will be left standing."

And with that the Demon left, leaving her and the other soldiers to water its garden of blood.

~…~

Rikan ducked under the chimera's claws as the lashed out at him, rushing in low and fast to get inside its range of attack without injury. The back of his fist smashed the thing's jaws away so that his right hand could safely grasp at the thing's throat. He pushed with all his might and managed to get the thing onto its back, but any attempts to cut off its air supply seemed to be fruitless thus far. The thing snarled at him and then bat Rikan away with its tail, something Rikan had forgotten about. The chimera righted itself, and Cornello laughed.

"That's right, kill him!"

"Fine," responded a feminine voice. A fiery explosion ripped through the air again, and as Riza Hawkeye walked into the room what remained of the chimera settled on the floor, a carpet of ash.

"I did not need any assistance," Rikan said, deliberately ignoring the pain in his side.

"I'm sure you could have handled it, but I didn't have time to wait." Riza's gaze then turned from her ally towards the man standing above them. "Now that your followers aren't here, I have a few questions that I'm sure you could answer."

"Well, it would seem I have no choice, do I?" Cornello answered, and in his voice Rikan could here false concern. The man lifted his can as though he was a defeated warrior offering his weapon to his victorious adversary.

"After all, you are such a skilled alchemist, and I am simply a humble man with nothing to defend myself with," Cornello said, and as he spoke a smile crept over his face.

"Nothing… except the power of God!" There was a flash of red, and in an instant the cane that Cornello had been holding was gone, having been replaced with a large machine gun. He turned the weapon to face the two of them, and they dove in separate directions only just in time as the father opened fire.

~…~

The doors of the temple burst open, and out of the darkness beyond it the Demon of Ishval stalked in. His weapons were at the ready, but he was not met with any attack. Waiting for a moment to be certain it was safe, he relaxed his stance and removed his mask. Roy would not be using his alchemy here, not while he was searching. And as useful and intimidation tool as it was, when it came to actually using his eyes outside of his alchemic smog, the mask was more of a hindrance than anything else. And if he discovered Riza here… well, he could only hope that she'd be less likely to kill him on sight if he wasn't wearing the face of the Demon.

As Roy walked through the temple to where he believed Cornello's chambers would be he couldn't help but notice that he was encountering no resistance. Checking every corner, gripping his combat knives, Roy felt like he we itching for a fight that wasn't coming. Surely the High Priest of Leto, the central figure in this revolution, would have kept his most trusted and able fighters nearby to defend him? Yet there was nothing.

As he continued his search, he began to see signs of recent fighting. Most obviously, the dead and unconscious men lying on the floor were the first clue. Somebody had been fighting the Letoites, but who? His men had not made it here yet, so who else could have done this?

Roy received his answer upon approaching the room he was looking for. One of the doors that lead into it was off of its hinges, and the blackened state of both the doors left little question as to how it had happened. Looking into the room itself, Roy did not have to be an expert to know that some sort of explosion had taken place. Charred debris covered the floor, and a hole had been blow into the wall allowing him to see the next room was in a similar state.

There were several bodies scattered across both rooms, and Mustang had been operating under the assumption that they were dead, so when he heard a weak moan he couldn't help but be surprised. Double so for the fact that the voice had been a woman's. It took Mustang a moment to find her, because she was half buried under the debris in the room. Surprisingly, she was relatively uninjured; a few bruises and a mild concussion at worst, he suspected. As he looked her over, recognition dawned on him. This was the woman he had seen crouched with Riza.

Roy kneeled down, keeping his right hand close to the girl's face. If she was more capable than he expected, he could introduce a high concentration of pretty much any gas he wanted right there before she had a chance to think to hold her breath. He thought for a moment how he was going to proceed, whether to try and be approachable or to be harsh and demanding. In the end he decided to keep his expression neutral, easily able to shift in either direction should the situation call for it. Carefully, he reached out with his other hand and shook the girl to wake her.

"What happened here?"

He could tell immediately that he didn't need to worry. The girl seemed only barely able to regain consciousness, and from the unfocused look in her eyes it was very possible she was delirious.

"Fire…" the girl mumbled, and Roy felt himself go rigid.

"She betrayed us…" Roy did not have to ask who. There was only one woman he knew with the capabilities to cause this much destruction.

"Where is she?"

"Father… must save him…"

And with that the girl lost consciousness again. Roy sighed and stood up. The orders he had been given, the orders that he had passed along to his own soldiers, were that no survivors were to be left. So of course, that meant that this girl needed to die. Roy studied her face again. Most of the time he never saw his victim's faces, they had always been obscured by gas or the haze of battle. It had always been impersonal, always with the face of the Demon between him and those who would die.

Roy reached for the mask.

An explosion sounded from somewhere below him. Roy knew that it couldn't be his soldiers. Even if they'd managed to get here already, something he doubted, they would have likely followed a similar path that Roy had, and they definitely wouldn't have used such high powered explosives indoors.

Roy turned and rushed out the room. His men would be here soon, and then the girl would die. What did it matter who killed her? He had to find Riza. She had turned on the Father, that much was clear, but why? The likelihood that she had sided with the military was nonexistent, so what was her angle?

~…~

Cornello looked in shock at the ruined weapon in his hands. The front end of his gun was spread out like some metal flower, completely useless. The woman, the Angel of Kanda, stood smiling as the last sparks of the alchemic reaction faded around her own weapon.

"Very good," he said, attempting to regain his composure, "very impressive. I can see how you managed to earn your reputation in Ishval. I wonder what we could do if we decided not to be enemies."

"Sorry," the woman said with a stern look, "but I don't team up with third rate cons that need a crutch."

"I'm certain I do not know what you are talking about."

"I think you do. I was wondering how you managed to deceive you followers so easily. At first I thought that you might be a skilled alchemist, but from what I've seen you aren't that talented."

"My dear woman, I am a servant of God-"

"Then I began to wonder if it wasn't something more. That you might have gotten your hands on a weapon, an item that could amplify even a novice's alchemy into something incredible. For example, what if that red stone in your ring was more than it appeared?"

Cornello grimaced. He'd been figured out.

"As I said, very good. You're smart, young lady. Too smart for your own good. If you came here to see what a Philosopher's Stone can do, then I'll be pleased to show you!"

Red light spilled from the Stone, and just as quickly as it had been ruined, the weapon in his hand reformed as though nothing had happened. Cornello grinned savagely, though he was mildly annoyed that the woman's expression was not one of fear. In fact, if he had to categorize it, he'd say she looked mildly amused.

"I don't see what's so funny."

"Of course not. I wouldn't expect you to, given that you're going to try the same trick twice."

The was another explosion, and once again the gun in his hands exploded, this time much more violently. Forced to drop the weapon, Cornello's mind raced for another method of destroying this woman who had proved herself more of an annoyance than anything he had faced thus far. His eyes were fixed on her, and they bulged when she had the audacity to chuckle.

"You really aren't that bright, are you? Only a third rate like you would forget you're fighting two enemies."

Cornello's eyes widened and he turned, but it was too late. The Ishvalan man's left hand wrapped firmly around his face, and his right around Cornello's left wrist. The hand around his wrist tightened further and made some sort of strange motion, something that was lost on Cornello as pain blossomed in that area. His scream of agony was muffled by the man's palm, and he hardly noticed the woman walking up to the two of them. He definitely couldn't muster the concentration to perform alchemy before she slipped the ring off of his finger and held it in front of his face.

"I would love to question you at length as to where this came from," she said with menace in her voice, before quickly removing the Stone from his sight, "but I'm afraid that it is likely we've drawn unwanted attention to ourselves. So my first question will be this, and for your own good you'd better answer quickly: is there any way out of here other than the one we just used?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_"Dear diary,_

_Father says that we will be having a guest stay with us soon. He says that he will be training an apprentice in alchemy, which I have a hard time believing. He's so secretive, I hardly ever get a chance to talk with him about his work. I can't imagine why he'd be so willing to offer to teach someone he's never met before._

_…_

_I got my test back today, and I was the top score in the class! The teacher praised me, all my classmates were so impressed, I was so proud! And then I had to show it to Father. He took one look at it, and do you know what he did? He took out one of his pens and began to make corrections! I told him that it was the best in the class, and his response was that I made the least mistakes out of all of my friends. He said good job, but why did he have to focus on what I did wrong?_

_…_

_Father's apprentice arrived today. He's an odd boy, he never seems to wear any expression except for a cocky smile. Father says I'm not to distract him from his studies, though something tells me he could get plenty distracted without my help. I said as much to Father, and that got me sent to my room while he started his lessons with the boy._

_I wonder why Father seems so much nicer to that boy. Is it because he wants to learn alchemy?_

_…_

_Roy (that's Father's student) can be so annoying sometimes! He bugs me when I'm doing my schoolwork, comes home late at night and waking everyone up, and whenever I actually do want to spend time with him all he seems to be interested in is showing me his stupid alchemy. What's more, whenever he does do something that gets Father mad, I'm always dragged down with him._

_Plus, he calls me Elizabeth, when I've very clearly told him that my name is Riza!"_

-Undated entries from the childhood diary of Riza Hawkeye.

~…~

"Riza!"

The blonde woman diverted her attention from her reading to look at Rikan. He was sitting in the front of the cart they had "commandeered" from a local who had lived far enough away from Liore to have escaped the massacre. Riza sat in the back, protected from prying eyes by the cloth covering meant to keep the elements off of whatever cargo the man would have normally transported.

"What is it?" she asked testily.

"I thought you were back there to keep an eye on the prisoner."

Riza sighed, closing the book and stashing it away. She looked to the other occupant of the cart, the now unconscious Father Cornello. She had Rikan to thank for that, the man's cries of pain had proved too distracting for him as they made their getaway. Riza could hardly complain, because while it slowed them down, the man's noise would have probably drawn every soldier in the military if they had let him go on.

Even though he wasn't causing anyone trouble at the moment, Riza had been keeping an eye on him in her own way. Living on the run had caused her to very sensitive to what was happening in her peripheral vision, so it was doubtful that he would have been able to do much before she could react. Especially now that he was disarmed of his secret weapon.

Riza drew out the ring again to inspect it. It certainly shared the characteristics that she'd come to expect from what she'd learned. She didn't dare try and use it, but she could sense the power the thing gave off, and knew that if used it would amplify her alchemy to untold levels. She looked at her reflection in the small red jewel. It was tiny, not much bigger than a marble you might see a child playing with. Riza couldn't help but ponder how something so small could be the cause of so much trouble.

_'But this confirms it then,'_ she thought to herself grimly, _'there has to be a connection. A Philosopher's Stone here, just like in Ishval…'_

For an instant the reflection in the Stone seemed to shimmer, like the image of something being distorted by a great source of heat. For a moment Riza wasn't staring into her own brown eyes, but piercing blue ones, filled with madness and bloodlust, eyes that danced with fire. Riza stiffened and refused to look away, waiting until the apparition faded and she was once again only returning her own gaze. Quietly she let out the breath that she'd been holding, doing her best not to alert her companion. She had gone quite a while without an "episode", as they had come to call it, and this had been a relatively minor one, so she didn't see the need to alarm him, or more likely, give him an excuse to doubt her further.

Cornello began to stir, so Riza hid the Stone. Better he not know which one of them had it, in case he wanted to try something stupid. As the man's consciousness slowly returned to him, it was easily seen when he became aware of something wrong. First when he tried to move and discovered that there were ropes around his hands and feet. Second when he tried to yell for help but could only make a muffled shout through the gag around his mouth. Finally, and Riza was only able to pick up on this due to her own training, when he attempted to transmute and realized that he did not have his Philosopher's Stone.

"Hello," Riza said quietly. Cornello tried to say something to her, likely unpleasant, but the gag stopped anything meaningful from getting out. He fell silent when she pressed a finger to her lips, indicating that he should be quiet and listen.

"Here's how this is going to work," she explained, "I'm going to untie that gag and ask you some questions. You are going to answer them calmly, and not do anything stupid like scream for help. No one will be around to help you anyway, all you'll do is annoy me. And…"

Riza slowly reached behind her to grab her gun. She laid it on her lap, resting her hand upon it lightly. She let the unspoken threat hang in the air.

"You're going to give me the truth, and if I like what I hear I might even let you go without handing you over to the military."

Hate in his eyes, Cornello nodded. With some effort, he worked himself up into a sitting position. Riza couldn't help but smile, even now he needed to preserve some sort of pride, didn't he? Once he was done, Riza reached behind him with one hand and untied the knot keeping the gag in place, all the while holding her gun more firmly and making sure that he could see this. After moment of trying to get the taste of the fabric out of his mouth, Cornello finally spoke.

"What do you want?"

~…~

"What does she want?"

Roy's question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, and if any of the soldiers he passed heard his muttering they made no comment and offered no answers. The Miasma Alchemist was fine with that, as he doubted any of his soldiers would be able to trade ideas with him on this particular matter. So Roy simply allowed his thoughts to stew, trying to put all the pieces together.

Riza had been here, there was no doubt about that. Even if he hadn't had eyewitness accounts (apart from the girl he had interrogated, a handful of survivors that they had searched out had been speaking of a "demon woman" or "alchemist assassin"), he could see the telltale signs of her handiwork as plain as day. There had been the explosion she had let loose in Cornello's chambers, the charring that he'd found in the adjoining room, several burn marks in the hallways, some sort of large animal that she'd reduced mostly to ash in the basement room he was currently standing in, and finally, a charred barricade that she had created to block off pursuit down the formerly hidden passage that she'd likely used to make her escape.

Roy ran over the rudimentary timeline he had set up, trying to make sense of it. After their encounter, Riza and her companions had made their way to Liore. She, or more likely her female companion, had managed to get an audience with Cornello, allowing them into his chambers. Then, some sort of confrontation took place. Riza had let loose her alchemy, but Cornello had managed to escape, likely sacrificing several of the followers that he had discovered along the way. They'd made their way down to this room, fought again, and then…

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang?" Roy turned, ending his train of thought to take notice of Lieutenant Ross standing a short distance away with an inquisitive look on her face.

"It looks like something is bothering you, sir," she said matter-of-factly. Roy realised that he must have been staring into space while he was thinking.

"I was merely trying to put this all together," he said, "and try and make sense of what part Ri… Hawkeye played in all this. Do you have something to report?"

"It appears that there are no more survivors, sir," Ross said. She did not move or look away from her superior officer, and eventually Roy realized that she did not mean to leave him alone with his thoughts.

"Thank you for the report," he answered, unable to simply say good when he understood that "no survivors" did not simply mean "no more fighters".

"So it would appear that the rumors of the Angel of Kanda fighting for the Letoites had some merit then," Ross commented.

"I'm not so sure."

"No?"

"In the rooms above us," Roy began, regaining his train of thought from where he had left off, "there are indications that she used her alchemy to fight. None of our soldiers report encountering her, and the marks of battle were here before we were, when there were only Letoites to fight with."

"Perhaps there was some sort of uprising she put down."

"But why now? Why wait until the enemy is at the door, and the Angel of Kanda is standing right in front of you? If I was going to kill my leader, I'd do it before it got to anything like this. No, I don't think any of the Letoites turned traitor."

"So you think Hawkeye was here to assassinate the priest, like some were saying?"

"I'd say yes, but there's only one thing: there is no body. This," he said, kicking the remains of what he now believed was probably a chimera, "isn't human, I'm sure of that. If she wanted Cornello dead, then why not just kill him and leave the body? Or better yet, why not just leave the job to us? I think it's more likely that she escaped with Cornello alive."

"So she attacks his protectors, then escapes, taking him with her before we can find and execute him," Ross summarized.

"Exactly. What I'm having trouble understanding is why."

Ross seemed to think on this for a while, then finally offered, "Most likely she needs something from him."

"Thank you," Roy answered with a touch of sarcasm. Then he smirked slightly at the Lieutenant and asked, "Why so helpful all of a sudden?"

"You did save my life sir."

"Was that all it took for you to warm up to me?"

"I wouldn't get any ideas if I were you sir."

"Furthest thing from my mind."

~…~

"I highly doubt that you made this."

Riza was getting frustrated. Getting a straight answer from the priest was like pulling teeth. She supposed that she should have expected this; the man was a charlatan after all, lies probably came as naturally to him as breathing. She was seriously considering having Rikan stop the cart and convincing him to break a few bones, but she knew that this was likely counterproductive and would only send the man into shock.

"I'm going to ask one more time," she said, raising her gun and pointing it at him, "and I want the truth this time."

"I don't think you'll actually use that here," Cornello said with a smug grin as he indicated the wooden cart they both sat in.

"And I don't think you look good with eyebrows," Riza answered. Pulling the trigger, a spark darted towards the priest's face, creating a small, bright flame mere inches from him. Cornello fell backwards in fear, and Riza's pent up frustrations were slightly relieved by the ridiculous spectacle that the man made of himself scrambling back to a sitting position.

"Alright, alright, I didn't make it!"

"Then where did you get it?"

Cornello began to babble, only a handful of his words making any sense. From the nonsense she was able to extract the general gist of what he was trying to get across. A man and a woman had approached him, back when he'd been a penniless third rate alchemist trying to make a living. They had said that he could use the stone to become great, and directed him towards Liore where he would find those willing to follow him. Apparently the whole religious angle had been his invention, something he still managed to show some pride in despite his circumstances.

"So some mysterious woman approaches you with the legendary Philosopher's Stone and you don't even ask her name?"

"One does not ask questions when God gives a gift!"

"You can drop the holy act any time now," Riza said as she massaged her temple.

"So, I don't suppose you could tell me what these two looked like?"

"The woman… she had black hair and… red! Her eyes were red! I… I don't remember the man very well, he was fat and bald, that's all I know. They were both wearing all black, and the woman had a tattoo on her chest, right between…" Cornello's voiced faded away as his eyes began to drift down Riza's frame. Riza let loose another small blast, this one only barely avoiding actual injury of the priest, and demanded that he look her in the eye and continue.

"It was an ouroboros! A snake eating its tail!" Cornello said frantically. Riza nodded. The ouroboros was a familiar enough symbol to an alchemist, even if it was one that was not often used in an array. Realizing that she likely wasn't going to get any more useful information out of Cornello, she turned away slightly, keeping her gun trained on him at all times.

"Rikan, stop the cart."

She and Cornello swayed slightly as the cart came to a halt, and his eyes widened in fear as the large Ishvalan that had been driving turned in his seat and began to enter the back.

"Our guest here has been most helpful, but I think it's time he was on his way," Riza said. Rikan nodded, and Cornello attempted to move, whether to get away or rise up Riza didn't know. Whichever it was, his movements were slowed by fear and his bonds, so he didn't have a chance to react properly before Rikan's fist made contact with his face and returned him to unconsciousness. Acting quickly and efficiently, Rikan grabbed the priest and carried him out of the cart while Riza made her way to the seat that he had until recently been occupying. While Rikan deposited Cornello at the side of the road, Riza took hold of the reins and got the horse moving. The creature was well trained; even when she ducked back out of the seat and jumped out the back of the cart, it kept moving like nothing had happened. She met Rikan as he was sheathing the knife he used to cut the unconscious Cornello's bonds, and the two made their way off the road, carefully inspecting behind them to be sure that they left no noticeable footprints.

"Hopefully when Cornello comes too he'll provide enough of a distraction," Riza said, knowing that her travelling companion would have like to have simply killed the priest and been done with it.

Rikan grunted in response, before saying, "So it would appear that my brother's prediction was correct. A Philosopher's Stone was used in the revolution at Liore."

"This time on the side of the revolutionaries."

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know for sure yet," Riza admitted, "but it definitely means that something more is going on than simple unrest in the east. Come on, we have to keep moving."

~…~

Something more of a thinking chapter compared to the last one, isn't it? There might be a somewhat longer wait between this chapter and the next, given that while I know exactly where I want to take this, I'm not 100% certain of how I'm getting there yet.

Also, just a note: at the time I'm writing this, this story has almost 1000 views. Kind of nice to see that this has caught a decent number of folk's attention. Or at least a small number of obsessive folks. I'm not too picky.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The streets of Liore were no longer silent, an oddity considering the massacre that had just taken place. It was empty of human life now, the only thing left of them were corpses not even given a proper burial but left to rot out in the eastern sun, but it had only taken a few days after the battle for the scavengers to move in. Dogs roamed the streets, feral things with rough fur and gruesome teeth, stopping occasionally to tear at some rotting piece of flesh. Birds, crows and other carrion feeding species, circled the skies, feeding on that which the dogs overlooked. Rats scurried around, no longer in fear of anyone defending the food supplies. Mostly they left the bodies to the dogs and birds, too fearful of being fed upon themselves to take the risk. However, occasionally a body would sit for some time unnoticed, and if it stayed that way for some times, a few brave rodents would attempt to feed.

Cautiously, one such creature poked its head out of an automobile sized hole in the wall of a building. There, across the street, was another human body, this one in almost pristine condition. The rat cared little for the state of the food, only the fact that its condition told it that nothing else in the area had fed on it yet. The rat knew that other creatures were about, it could hear the barking of dogs not too far away, as well as some other unfamiliar sounds, but no vermin creature survived long without some measure of daring. Swiftly, it darted out to get the most out of the feast that lay in front of it before something bigger would come to chase it away. It only got halfway across the street when something, something that too the rat's eyes was impossibly large and fast, blocked out the sun and fell upon it.

~…~

"Gluttony!"

The woman barked out at her companion as she delicately made her way through the carnage. Here in this chaotic and yet deathly still place, she exuded a grace that had been honed over a very long lifetime. As she walked around the debris from where explosives had gone off, she suffered not a tear in the black dress that she wore that went down to her ankles, and only occasionally did the pointed heels she wore break some piece of shattered glass underneath her.

He companion turned to her, his pudgy hands clasped firmly around the struggling rat, his unintelligent eyes looking at her pleadingly. The woman shook her head, brushing her black hair aside with one gloved hand to meet his gaze. "Put the rat down, Gluttony."

Reluctantly he complied. As the tiny vermin scurried away, the fat man turned his attention towards the body that had drawn the rat out of hiding.

"Can I eat her instead, Lust?" Gluttony asked hopefully.

"No you cannot," Lust replied. She had to be forceful with him, because she knew that once he had started eating it was only this side of impossible to get him to stop until he was finished. And with as many bodies as there were around, it would be some time before that would happen. Lust expected that he might even try and drain the blood that had soaked into the ground, and while she was strictly speaking not even sure if he was capable of doing that, it wasn't something she could afford to find out.

Glutton sat down, causing his rather ample frame to become slightly distorted and making him appear as a black and flesh colored lump on the ground. Ignoring his pouting and whining, Lust stood and looked around. Whatever she was searching for, she did not find it, and eventually she had to sigh in frustration again.

"Well this is an annoyance," she said mostly to herself, given that Gluttony was likely not going to hear her above his own self-pity, "It looks as though the good Prophet isn't here." Cornello surviving was problematic, but not crippling to their plans. He hardly knew anything about them, so at worst all he could do was spread some baseless rumors about two mysterious figures and an unbelievable gift they had bestowed upon him. The Philosopher's Stone that he had wasn't much of an issue either; the power it possessed was relatively limited, and Lust suspected that Cornello had just about used it all up by the time the Central soldiers had arrived. But still, those were two things which had once been in their hand that were now unknown factors, which was something that displeased Lust to no end. And on top of that…

"That woman," Lust mused, "may be something of a problem." The Angel of Kanda had been an unexpected development during the Ishvalan conflict, but her appearance had been little more than a minor variable in the grand scheme of things then. She had been up to various activities in the East since then, but now she had once again she had interposed herself on their plans, this time coming much closer than she or any of her associates were comfortable with. Did she know something? If so, how much? While the information Cornello had was little, if she already knew something of their plans it might be more dangerous in the hands of Riza Hawkeye. What's more, if her source's information was accurate then the Miasma Alchemist had taken steps to keep her out of harm's way, which was a discomforting thing as well.

"Gluttony, can you make out any specific scents?"

"I'm so hungry, Lust…"

"We'll get you something to eat later. Now, can you smell anything?"

"I can smell a lot of dead humans," Gluttony offered, which Lust found less than helpful. This had been the problem that had prevented them from simply having Gluttony track down Cornello: his scent was simply unremarkable, hardly different from any other human's. Gluttony's nose was good, but he could hardly be expected to pick out such a mundane scent as his like this. Lust was almost ready to give up and report in when she saw a look on Gluttony's face that made her stop.

"What is it?"

"I smell her."

"The woman alchemist?"

"I think so. She smells like smoke and ash. I wonder if she's tasty."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Lust admonished. As much of an annoyance a she was making of herself, all agreed that an alchemist with talent like hers might make a viable candidate for a Sacrifice, so they all were hesitant to take any action against her.

"Come along Gluttony. Let us see if we can track this girl down."

"Will I get to eat her?"

"We will see."

~…~

Eastern headquarters had been quiet in the days following the battle at Liore. With the departure of the Central soldiers, the last vestiges of excitement from the operation had finally been put out of sight and the humdrum of normalcy had resumed. Because of this, when the Miasma Alchemist had received word that General Grumman wished to see him, he expected that it was for another game of chess. When the general told him the actual reason, he could hardly believe it.

"A summons from the Fuhrer?" Roy blinked once as though he expected General Grumman to disappear and be replaced by Master Hawkeye asking why he arrived to his lessons without pants. But against all odds Grumman remained in place, patiently awaiting a more substantial answer. Given that he was being told that the leader of their country and military wanted to meet with him personally, Roy decided the best answer he had was a question.

"Why would the Fuhrer want to meet with me?"

Grumman shrugged. "I doubt it's for any simple promotion or reassignment," he said, "or they would have delegated that duty to me and been done with it. Whatever the reason, a personal summons from the Fuhrer isn't something you can ignore or take lightly, my boy."

"I wasn't thinking of not going," Roy said, perhaps slightly more defensively than was necessary, "I simply was wondering why I am being summoned away when there is still work to do here in the East."

"I'd hardly call staring at a report in an attempt to make it write itself 'work'," Grumman jokingly chided. Roy let himself chuckle before attempting to return to his original point.

"If that was all, sir, I'd have boarded the train to Central in a heartbeat. I'm referring to any remaining pockets of the cult that might have survived. With Cornello still in the wind, we can't be sure they won't become violent."

"I think we can manage against a handful of fanatics without a State Alchemist for a while," Grumman said, and then added as an afterthought, "Besides, with all this excitement, I imagine that you could use some time off."

"Well it has been some time since I've visited Hughes."

"See? You fought hard out there to give this region some peace and avoid any more pointless death. You deserve to take some leave." The general grinned warmly, and though neither man mentioned it, Roy could tell that Grumman was thanking him for more than keeping the casualty count among their soldiers low. The fact that Riza had likely survived the fighting had probably reached him by now, and warranted or not Grumman credited Roy with that.

"Thank you sir."

"And anyway," Grumman said, the smile on his face becoming more mirthful and joking, "while you're in the Fuhrer's office, you can see how you want it decorated in the future."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roy said with a knowing smirk.

~…~

Rikan stared into the night, feeling the warmth of the fire at his back. While he'd never give Hawkeye the satisfaction of complaining, he was glad that she'd felt confident enough that they'd evaded pursuit that she was willing to let him get a fire going. She'd been unwilling to use her alchemy for such a mundane task, something Rikan was in agreement with, though for different reasons. While he had been willing to compromise and travel with her, even stand by and refrain from commenting while she used her alchemy to further their goals, the day he allowed the blasphemy she practiced simply because it was convenient to him would be the day he'd ask Ishvala to end his pathetic existence.

_'God,'_ he prayed silently, _'please continue to protect my soul from corruption, even as I walk alongside it.'_ Even as his bitter thoughts turned to her, he kept his back to the sleeping form of Riza Hawkeye behind him, the one that so many of his Ishvalan brothers mistakenly believed to be an Angel sent to protect them. His clasped hands tightened in rage.

"You're… still praying… brother?"

Rikan froze at the laboured voice behind him. He hadn't expected his brother to visit him tonight.

"That's… good. I've been worried… that after all you've seen… you might have lost your faith."

"You're suspicions were correct," Rikan said without acknowledging the words his brother had spoken, "there was a Philosopher's Stone involved in the uprising at Liore."

"They had another… State Alchemist… with a Stone?"

"No. The Central forces brought a State Alchemist, but he did not wield the Stone. It was in the possession of the leader of the uprising."

"Strange…"

"Do you have anything new insights?"

"I cannot… remember… anything else…"

Rikan grimaced. Every time they spoke he constantly wished that his brother would remember something that would solve all the mysteries that had arisen since Ishval had fallen. The progress that had been made was maddeningly slow. If his brother was as he was before, this would have been much simpler, but now…

"Damn her."

"This is not… her fault…"

"How can you say that brother? It is because of her that you-"

"It is because… of her… that we both… are alive…"

"For what it is worth," Rikan muttered, but said no more on the subject. Even with everything that had changed, he still held a deep respect and admiration for his older brother, and as always it only ever took a few words from him to end anything approaching an argument. Even if it was a labor for him to speak those words now. Both of the brothers remained silent for a long while, until Rikan believed that his brother had left. When he spoke again Rikan was slightly surprised.

"Central…"

"What is it?"

"You said… Central forces… fought at Liore?"

"It makes sense for them to send their most well trained men to end the revolution."

"No… there is something… about Central…"

"What are you saying, brother?"

"I cannot… you must go… maybe there…"

The strain in his brother's voice was growing greater. Rikan knew that he did not have long before he would be gone again, but still he hesitated to answer. Central was, as its name suggested, the very heart of Amestris, the capital city. It was likely heavily defended, with military police patrolling the streets regularly. Both Rikan and Hawkeye were wanted fugitives, and even if the military had no pictures and only general physical descriptions, going there would be a tremendous risk. He almost considered questioning it, but then again, his brother's guidance, based on half remembered suspicions though it might be, had brought them to the Philosopher's Stone in Liore. He had not been led astray before, and he saw no reason to suspect he would be now.

"Very well," he said, "If the answers to what is happening lie there, then we will travel to Central as swiftly as possible."

"Thank you…"

"There is no need to thank me. I am merely trying to uncover the reason for what happened to our homeland."

"All the same… thank you…" He suspected from the tone of voice that his brother used that he would be smiling fondly if able.

~…~

Honestly, this is one character I've been worried about. Making Scarbro a semi-active player in the present day was something I was considering since this idea first came to me, but the issue of how he wouldn't ruin the entire plot or else take it in a direction that I had no idea how to handle we a bit of a sticking point. Oddly enough, Riza herself was the one who let me know how to reconcile this.

And no, I'm letting you guys know what happened yet.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Roy stared out the window of the train, watching the eastern countryside pass by. His eyes were unfocused; he'd learned fairly quickly that trying to keep his eyes on something while he sped by so quickly was an easy way to become nauseous. Apart from taking in the scenery there had been little to do in the hour since the train had started moving. Roy considered trying to close his eyes and let the clacking of the trains wheels on the rails lull him to sleep, but frankly he hardly felt tired at all. By the time he'd fall asleep, the train would have arrived at Central and he'd have to greet Maes at the station in a groggy stupor, something he'd learned a long time ago was a bad idea if one hoped to avoid needless aggravation.

Looking away from the window, Roy turned to the other occupant of the cabin he sat in. Maria Ross had for the most part completely ignored Roy's presence. Since the train departed, she'd been busy leafing through an Eastern newspaper she'd picked up. How she was able to keep reading for a whole hour was a mystery to Roy; five minutes was about as long as he could last in a moving vehicle before he began to feel ill. Seeing no other way of occupying his time, Roy perused the front page of the paper in his subordinate's hands. While not the most prominent, the picture of a little girl drew his eye. Pigtails and a smile, a combination that was off-putting in conjunction with the text accompanying the picture: _Nina Tucker, Age 4, Missing_.

Roy suppressed a shudder and made a mental note to make sure that Hughes didn't see that. Deciding he'd rather have something less distressing than missing children to occupy his time, he began to speak.

"I must say I'm surprised you came with me, Lieutenant."

Ross sighed and lowered the paper, looking at Roy as though she was enduring some sort of unpleasant duty.

"You did ask me to come, sir," she reminded him.

"Yes, but I didn't think you'd take me up on it!" he replied with a smirk.

"You'd rather find your way around Central on your own?"

"No, I'll take any assistance you can offer," Roy said. He had neglected to mention that he had spent a good number of his formative years in Central, and unless the layout of the streets had been shifted somehow he wouldn't need a guide, but he wasn't about to give the Lieutenant a reason to catch the next train back to East City.

"So, do you have any friends you're planning to visit while we're in Central, Miss Ross?"

"A few. Do you know Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong?"

Roy instinctively tensed at the mention of that name. His last encounter with the Lieutenant Colonel had been… interesting, to say the least. His reaction did not go unnoticed by Ross, who chuckled slightly at her superior's unease. Roy capitalized on this, hoping to divert the conversation away from this topic.

"So you are capable of smiling," he said playfully.

"On occasion," Ross replied.

"Well then I'll just have to provide that occasion more often."

Ross shook her head, but Roy had noticed that the smile she wore had not entirely left her lips before she hid herself once again behind the newspaper. He'd count that as a win on that front, even if it was only a small one. Knowing not to press his luck he left Ross to her reading. He turned back to the window, noticing that the scenery was not flying past as quickly now. Another stop. How many more until they reached Central?

Roy sighed and wished he had something interesting to do.

~…~

Riza paused for a moment and attempted to hide the grimace that had come over her face. Partially it was because she did not want to give herself an excuse to halt their already slow advance towards Central, but also because some small part of her fueled by pride and bravado did not want the large Ishvalan man walking just a short distance ahead to see any sort of weakness in her. After a second, she resumed walking, increasing her pace slightly to make up for the small distance she'd lost. She managed another three steps before a new wave of agony made itself known. This time she could not help herself, she let loose a hiss of pain. She mentally cursed herself as Rikan stopped and turned around.

"Everything alright?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than concerned.

"I'm fine," Riza spat even as she winced once again. Rikan crossed his arms, obviously not convinced. Not wanting to waste time with an argument, Riza decided to bend the truth.

"The old bandages are just feeling a little uncomfortable," she said, and while this was true, it did not cover even half of the problems that Riza was currently dealing with. The pain in her back had already started to become noticeable when they had cut Cornello loose and only intensified with every passing day. The old bandages were indeed a problem compounding this, as was the fact that she had run out of her carefully rationed (and illegally obtained) medicine yesterday.

"We can't afford anything like this slowing us down," Rikan said.

"Exactly," Riza agreed as she resumed walking, "Which is why we should just move on and-"

"That is not what I meant."

Rikan's hand shot out as Riza attempted to pass him, firmly resting on her shoulder. Riza winced in pain and attempted to shrug him away. If Rikan noticed his companion's discomfort, he did nothing to ease it; if anything, his grip became slightly more firm to keep her in place.

"Whether we like it or not, we are working together," Rikan said. "Alchemy is at the heart of all this, so as much as it pains me I need someone like you to help decipher this mystery. And if you are not at your best, you will slow us both down."

Rikan's gaze wandered off towards the horizon, where a plume of smoke traced a path indicating a train had come to stop nearby. "There's a town not far from here. We may find a doctor there," he said, and noticing the short blonde woman's mouth opening to argue, added, "and a short detour now is preferable to losing focus at a critical moment later."

Riza didn't answer. She knew it would only waste time to argue, and while she was loath to admit any weakness, the pain she was experiencing was only going to get worse if she tried to ignore it. She shot a harsh glance at Rikan before pulling away. This time he allowed her to go, watching almost impassively as she changed course and began to walk towards the town.

~…~

"I smell her Lust! She's close now."

"Good, Gluttony."

"Can I eat her?"

"I said we will see."

"I smell an Ishvalan with her. Can I eat him?"

"...Fine."

~…~

It took little time to reach the town. The difficulty lay in deciding what they would do once they reached it. It took some time, but eventually Riza managed to convince Rikan that of the two of them, she would draw the least attention. With her hood up she could hide her most distinguishing feature, her burns, quite easily, while there was little a large, muscular Ishvalan man could do to make himself stand out less in a little countryside town. Grudgingly, he agreed to wait on the outskirts while Riza searched the town for a doctor.

It didn't take her long. Even being as cautious as she was, saying little and only approaching those who's attention seemed to be occupied to make sure she left as little impression as possible, she was almost unanimously directed to a Dr. Mauro. Apparently he was an unusually talented physician, more than what would be expected of such a small town. His abilities mattered little to Riza, however. She simply needed medicine and supplies, and she wouldn't need the doctor's skills or permission to obtain either.

Fifteen minutes of observation saw no activity from outside the small two story building that the doctor lived and practiced in. Riza would have liked to observe the building for a while yet; she had no idea whether the lack of activity meant that this Mauro was out or if he was simply finished with his work for the day and had retired to the lower floor. A breeze whistled through the streets, and feeling another sting of pain as her clothes brushed against her sensitive skin, Riza couldn't wait any longer. Glancing around to ensure there was no one to see her, she stole across the street and up the stairs on the outside of the building. The door was locked, but a little investigation showed one of the windows wasn't. Riza was thankful. The last thing she needed was a noisy break in drawing attention to her.

The interior of the building was dark. Riza didn't reach for a light switch, knowing that the darkness would hide her activities to anyone who might be passing by. In any case, it wasn't so bad that she could not maneuver around the few obstacles that were present. A table and a few chairs were all the greeted her in the main room. There was a shelf on the far wall, filled with bottles. Riza cautiously made her way over to them, trying her best not to allow so much as a loose floorboard announce her presence. When she arrived in front of the shelf, she cursed quietly as she realized that, due to the darkness, she would have to pick up and inspect each bottle directly until she found what she was looking for. She reached for the first one when a sound caused her to freeze: a deep breath taken by someone else in the room.

Riza's reaction was instantaneous, driven more out of reflex than conscious thought. She turned quickly and attempted to press her back into the wall. As there was a shelf in the way, this resulted in two things: first, the loud tinkling sound of many glass bottles being shaken against one another rang throughout the room, and second, the jabbing of the shelf into Riza's back caused her to cry out in pain. It was hardly surprising that this drew someone's attention; within seconds she heard footsteps racing up the stairs outside. Riza had only just managed to grab her gun when the door swung open and the lights came on.

"Miss, are you alright? You shouldn't-"

The sudden change in light partially blinded Riza. Not waiting for her eyes to readjust, she pointed her gun in the direction of the voice of the man who had just entered. "Hands up, doctor," she shouted as firmly as she could, making an educated guess as to who this man must be. She heard footsteps, slower this time, edging to one side.

"Who-"

"Stay where you are!"

For a while there was nothing, no sound, no movement. As Riza's vision cleared, the situation became more understandable. A man, short and stocky stood in the doorway. His age was apparent, with several wrinkles beginning to form, and grey becoming prominent at the edges of his otherwise black hair. His eyes remained fixed on Riza, and while he complied with her demand to remain still, it was apparent in his body language that he wished to move. Glancing to his right Riza could see why: on a bed next to the wall was a slowly breathing form under a blanket, apparently the one who had surprised Riza in the dark. Amazingly, the doctor's patient seemed to still be asleep, unaware of the tense confrontation that was taking place at their bedside.

"If it's money you're after, there's nothing here worth stealing. Please, can't you see I have a patient?" Mauro said. Riza had to admire this man's strength of will. Frightened at the prospect of an armed stranger assaulting him, he still put the wellbeing of his patient first. Under any other circumstances Riza would have liked to commend the doctor, but in this moment she needed to get what she'd come here for and leave. Not wanting to give the doctor a potential opening, she reached behind herself and grabbed a bottle at random, hoping that whatever it was it had some sort of pain relieving properties. Once she'd done so, she began to edge to one side, motioning with her weapon for the doctor to move away from the door. He did so, putting himself in front of his patient's bed as he had first intended. Glancing towards the shelf that she'd taken the bottle from, Mauro's eyes widened.

"You're injured?" Riza risked taking her eyes off the doctor to see what had given him that idea. Looking at the shelf, she saw a stain of blood, still wet. 'Damn,' she thought, realizing that being as focused on the situation as she was, she hadn't noticed that she'd started bleeding.

"If you need treatment, I can help you," Mauro said, slowly approaching. Riza waved her gun about in front of her in warning. The pain was beginning to make it hard to maintain concentration, but she had hoped that the motion would be threatening enough to ward the man off. It was unsuccessful, though; apparently Mauro's desire to offer aid overrode his sense of self preservation. He continued his approach, one hand raised with its palm facing her as though she were some panicked animal the man was trying to calm. His other hand was slowly entering his pocket. As it began to withdraw, Riza saw a red glow reflecting off of the doctor's hand.

There was no rationality behind Riza's reaction; the pain which she had been attempting to ignore had now rendered her a creature of pure instinct. Seeing the red substance that the doctor withdrew from his pocket, she shot backwards towards the door as though he had drawn a knife. She felt something dig into her back, remembering too late that she was retreating onto a set of stairs. Still propelled by her panicked retreat, she felt herself tip over. The pain reached a crescendo, blurring her sight such that she didn't even get to see the ground as it rushed up at her.

~…~

'Where is she?' Rikan wondered as he stood in the shade of a small growth of trees near the town. It had been well over an hour since Riza had left to enter the village, and even as cautious as she was he had expected her to have found something or else have called off the search and returned by now. Rikan wondered not for the first time if it was worth keeping the Amestrian woman around; he knowledge of alchemy sometimes only barely offset the irritation that she provided him. If it hadn't been for the promise that he had made to his brother…

An unexpected sound broke Rikan out of his train of thought. From behind him, a sound that could only be described as a slurping noise was emanating from deeper in the growth of trees that Rikan was now using to hide himself. Turning away from the town that he had been impatiently watching, he found himself facing the source of the noise: a fat man wearing black clothing that clung to his skin, with drool dripping from his mouth.

"Who are you?" Rikan asked tersely. The man stared at him with a simple look on his face, and for a moment Rikan wondered if perhaps he had been discovered by the village's resident idiot. Then the man's tongue snaked out of his mouth as he loudly licked his lips. Rikan caught a glimpse of something, a tattoo of a serpentine creature forming a loop, and his memory was sparked.

"You are the man that Cornello spoke of," he said.

"I'm so hungry," the man answered without acknowledging Rikan's words. He spoke in a high voice that should not have been at all intimidating, but something about him seemed to radiate malice. A savage grin broke out on the man's face as a growl began to edge into his voice.

"Lust said I can eat you, so don't have to be hungry for long!"


End file.
